A Murder to Die For
by Jilsen
Summary: The Hardy brothers, along with Nancy and Bess, are in Hawaii for a big fashion show. The Hardys and Nancy have been hired to provide extra security. However, a murder soon diverts their attention. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I do not own the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew. I make no money from this story or any of the others I write and post. This story was written in 2009 and posted here for a few years. I removed it long ago and have edited it a bit. This story is a stand-alone novel. I'm posting it again due to a special request by a reviewer. :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Thirty-year old Gwen Airedale gazed at the gorgeous blue ocean. Waves tumbled onto the glistening sand. Gwen, dressed in a pink tank top and short shorts, took another healthy gulp of her apple martini.

"To the view," she said slurring her words. "Who says money can't buy happiness?" She smiled at her joke. All those years as a fashion designer had finally paid off. Here she was in Hawaii in a five-star hotel enjoying a pitcher of apple martinis on the balcony of the hotel's most expensive suite.

A frown darkened Gwen's face and she screwed up her bow lips. It hadn't been hard work that had gotten her such lush surroundings. It was catching the eye of one of the richest men in the fashion industry and marrying him.

"Whatever." She tossed her head and ran a hand through shoulder-length platinum-blonde hair.

Sadly, there was more unreal, than real about Gwen. Although naturally pretty, she'd had plenty of help emphasizing and enhancing her features. These thoughts preyed upon Gwen's troubled mind as she reached for the pitcher and poured a third martini.

"How fake am I? Let me count the ways," she mused with some regret. She crossed her arms and twirled the stem of the martini glass between her fingers as she ticked off the items in her mind – false eyelashes, spray tan, breast implants, bleached hair _and_ extensions, fake nails, teeth whitenings.

Was that even a word?

Oh well, what else was fake? Oh yeah, the blue contact lens and a chin implant.

Gwen almost laughed at the incongruity of the situation, but came up short.

Fear passed over those blue tinted eyes. She'd spotted _him_. Yesterday, in the hotel lobby shortly after she and her husband, Lance, had arrived. There'd been a crowd of people checking in. The big fashion show scheduled for Friday at this hotel had brought lots of designers and big names here. She'd been scanning the crowd, looking for familiar faces and friends, and that's when she'd seen him.

But … had he seen her?

She took a chug of the martini to settle her nerves. "God, there's so much fake about me he probably didn't even recognize me."

She forced a laugh and reminded herself it had been seven years since they'd seen each other. She, herself, had not been convinced it was him when she first spotted him. Only when he'd turned and walked away did she know for certain.

No mistake. It _was_ him. She knew that walk.

Her gaze returned to the ocean. Such a beautiful view, so tranquil and calm. Gwen sucked in a deep breath and salty air filled her lungs. Let the past stay in the past she prayed.

A heavy sigh escaped her pouty lips. Her eyelids were heavy. Too much alcohol. She tossed the half-empty martini glass on the balcony table. It shattered and its contents puddled on the table. Gwen didn't care. She needed water, cold water, to splash on her face and bring her out of this funk. This jaunt down memory lane had unsettled her.

She spun on unsteady legs and stepped into the hotel suite. Bare, tanned feet with bright pink polish, sank into the plush carpet. She wiggled her toes. Ah, the feeling of pure luxury.

The door to the suite opened and her head snapped up. She gasped. _He_ stood in the doorway a smile slowly spreading across his face. He was all charm and no warmth.

Gwen froze. So, he _had_ recognized her.

Could he see the terror on her face? Could he sense her fear?

His eyes gleamed like a cat who'd cornered its prey. He closed the door with a finality that frightened Gwen more than his smile. He stretched out his hands in a friendly gesture, palms upturned facing the ceiling.

"What? No 'hello?' No, 'How've you been?'" he asked scarcastically.

 _Run!_ Gwen thought. _Run!_

But she couldn't. Fear held her paralyzed. Then somehow – perhaps by sheer force of will – she gathered the strength to move and scrambled to the sofa. She clutched the back for support. Alcohol had made her unsteady before, now fear did.

The sound of her voice, barely a whisper, shocked her, "What do you want?"

"You, of course." He walked toward the sofa. She was standing behind it.

 _Beware!_ her mind screamed racing into panic mode.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she choked out the words that might save her, "I've never told anyone."

"I never said you had. But I hate living in fear, don't you?" He stopped in front of the sofa and smiled at her. Then he reached into a pocket of his Bermuda shorts.

Gwen saw the gun and the color drained from her face.

"No. No!" she begged before she turned to run.

Could she outrun a bullet? A foolish thought, but human instinct. The bullet caught her in the side and she fell on the plush carpet. Soft, so very soft, she thought as her eyes glazed over and eternal sleep claimed her.

# # # #

"I think it's time for a drink," Bess Marvin announced. A nine hour flight hadn't slowed her down one bit. "Just let me check my hair and make-up." She slipped into the hotel bathroom and brushed her short blonde curls.

Nancy Drew pushed herself out of the cushy chair beside her bed and opened the drapes. "Where do you get the energy?" she called to her friend.

Nancy and Bess had been best friends since high school. The jet-lagged detective stared somewhat absently at the beautiful ocean view glistening beyond the small balcony.

Bess exited the bathroom and gushed, "Oh, my gosh! Nancy, it's gorgeous!" Bess opened the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. "Nancy, we're in Hawaii." She spun around. "How can you be tired?!"

Nancy grabbed her hairbrush and joined Bess on the balcony. "I don't know, maybe the nine-hour flight has something to do with it." She chuckled and brushed her strawberry blonde hair.

"Yeah, but we just had a two hour nap," Bess reminded her. Bess closed her eyes, leaned back, and let the sun caress her skin. "Awww, that feels good."

She enjoyed the warmth for another moment before straightening up and sighing, "Too bad we don't have time to lay out, relax, and catch some rays, but I have a million things to check on before the big fashion show on Friday." She dashed back into the hotel room and began searching for her purse.

After graduating college, Bess had taken a job at _Airedale Fashions_ in Chicago. She had steadily risen up the ranks thanks to her initiative and drive. Her boss, Lance Airedale, had been particularly impressed with her ability to spot future trends and had recently promoted her to Junior Consultant.

"That would include me wouldn't it?" Nancy asked following her friend into the room. She smiled as she watched Bess search under the tangled bed sheets and pillows for her purse. "I mean, since your boss hired the Hardys and me to guard the collections and jewels, I'd say the Hardys and me have a lot of things to check on, too."

Bess, along with her cousin George, had helped Nancy in many of her early detective cases. The three girls had also shared a few cases with the Hardy brothers, Frank and Joe.

"It would," Bess agreed then triumphantly grabbed her purse from behind her open suitcase. "Aha!" she said holding it up to show Nancy her discovery. "But you're right Nancy, _we_ all have a lot to do and _we_ probably should check on things before we have those drinks. This is my first fashion show since Mr. Airedale promoted me to Junior Consultant and I want everything to be perfect. I've got his Personal Assistant, Melinda, watching over me, you know."

"Good thing we have four days to prepare." Nancy laughed as she picked up her handbag and dropped her hairbrush inside. "Today's only Sunday," Nancy said as she and Bess exited their room.

"I know, I know. But Mr. Airedale is counting on me and I don't want to let him down."

The women, dressed in shorts and tank tops, headed to the elevators.

"You won't let him down," Nancy assured her friend and pushed the down button. "Think we should check on Frank and Joe first?"

"Ummmm." Bess tilted her head and tapped her chin. "Joe should be up seeing as he slept the entire flight."

She and Nancy giggled as they entered the elevator.

"I've never seen anybody pass out like that," Nancy said.

"I know." Bess shook her head in feigned disbelief.

The women exited the elevator and walked along the hallway. Rooms lined one side of the hall while the other side had a railing and was open to the lobby below. The ping of elevators and the sounds of rolling luggage accompanied by voices and laughter wafted up from the lobby.

"Kinda noisy on this floor," Bess said.

"Yeah," Nancy agreed. "Here's their room." She knocked on the door and leaned closer to listen.

Bess did the same. "Doesn't sound like anybody's alive in there."

Just as Nancy was ready to knock again the door opened revealing a disheveled Frank Hardy.

The dark-haired older brother of the Hardy duo held onto the door with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other.

He squinted at the women and mumbled, "What time is it?"

Bess answered, "Time to check out the rooms and hall where the fashion show will take place. And don't forget we're meeting my boss for dinner at seven."

"Huh?" Frank ran a hand through his mussed hair. "But you didn't answer my question. What time is it?"

Nancy checked her watch. "Five o'clock. If you and Joe need more time —"

Frank cut her off with a wave of his hand, "We'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

Joe's voice rang out in the background, "Make that ten."

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream caught everyone by surprise.

Bess and Nancy ran to the railing overlooking the lobby. They spotted a maid waving her hands wildly and running from the elevators.

"She's dead! She's dead!" the maid cried, "Security! Security to the tenth floor!"

Bess paled and put a hand to her chest. "Oh, my gosh. Mr. Airedale's room is on the tenth floor." She turned to Nancy. "You .. you don't think .."

"We'll be ready in five minutes," Frank called before shutting the door to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks! You all have Smithy to thank for the re-posting of this story and to answer her question about romance, yes, there will be romance and it will be F/N. Sorry I forgot to mention that. Also, F,N,B are 26 while Joe is 25. This story fits into the universe created in my story "Past and Present Danger." But you don't have to read that story to understand this one._

 _Final note: I plan on posting one chapter every day (life permitting.) :) I'll try to forewarn you if there will be a delay in posting._

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

With the hotel door safely locked behind him, _he_ hurried to his suitcase, withdrew the gun from his shorts and shoved it deep beneath his clothes. It would stay there until tonight when he could get rid of it.

A key sounded in the door and he spun around. His wife entered with a smile and a glow. He ran a hand over his hair and said, "So, how was the facial?"

"To die for!" she answered with a radiant smile and turned her freshly scrubbed face side to side to show off the results. "Do I look younger?"

He embraced her as they both laughed. What a pity she had no clue that he wasn't laughing at her joke. No, for him seven years of worrying had finally come to an end. He was laughing at the irony of founding Gwen here, at the hotel, when he'd least expected it. For six years he'd secretly searched for her. He'd been on the verge of giving up and then, suddenly, there she was in the lobby on the arm of one of the richest men in the fashion industry. Sure, he hadn't been completely certain at first that it was indeed his Gwen. She'd changed herself, had enhancements, but he'd seen past all that. Yes, it was his Gwenie and lucky for him he'd decided at the last minute to mail the gun to the hotel, have it waiting – just in case.

An involuntary snort of laughter escaped his lips before he could stifle it. His wife looked up in surprise and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You're in a good mood," she observed warily wondering why.

"I am." He flashed his most charming smile and nuzzled her neck thereby cutting off any further conversation.

 _Now onto part two,_ he thought as his wife gave him a suspicious look, but kissed him all the same.

Thrilled by his good fortune, he kissed his wife back .. hard, perhaps a little too hard. His good fortune had given him a shot of adrenaline.

He remembered Gwen's words, ' _I've never told anyone._ '

Thanks for letting me know he thought and kissed his wife more gently.

# # # #

Hotel security had cordoned off the Airedale's room by the time Nancy, Bess, and the Hardy brothers arrived. A tall, burly security guard with bushy brown hair stand watch outside the room.

"Oh no," Bess whispered as she and her friends approached. "It is the Airedales' room."

The door was ajar and muffled voices could be heard inside.

The tall guard held up a hand and stopped the group. "No one's allowed in this area. We need to keep the hall clear for the medical team and police."

"I'm Bess Marvin. I'm an employee of Mr. Airedale."

Frank stepped forward, even at six-one, he had to tip his head slightly to meet the guard's glare. "I'm Frank Hardy. My brother and I, along with Miss Drew here," he pointed at each person, "are also employees of Mr. Airedale's. We've been hired as security guards, but we're also detectives. Mr. Airedale may require our services."

The guard gave the group a smirk. They were all too young for his liking, mid-twenties at best. Although, at thirty-five, he wasn't exactly old himself.

"Sorry, hotel management's instructions," he said firmly. "I have to ask all of you to leave." He pointed toward the elevator they had recently exited.

Frank gestured to the others that they should comply with the guard's request and the group walked away, very slowly, which did nothing to endear them to the guard.

Thinking perhaps a heart attack was the cause of death, Joe said, "How old was Mrs. Airedale?"

He, Frank and Nancy had not met the Airedales yet. Tonight at dinner would have been their first meeting.

"Young," Bess answered, "Thirty, I think."

"So, probably not a heart attack," Joe said voicing his thoughts.

Frank asked, "How old's Mr. Airedale?"

They group was now a comfortable distance from the room and guard and therefore came to a stop.

Bess frowned. "Um, mid-fifties I'd say."

"Young wife, older man," Frank mussed. "How long have .. er, had they been married?"

"Not long. Maybe five years." Bess glanced back at the guard and wondered what was happening inside the room.

Suddenly, an older gentleman burst from the room. He pointed a finger at the guard and practically growled, "I demand to see my Personal Assistant this minute." Then he spotted Bess. "Bess?"

Bess grabbed Nancy by the arm and hurried to her employer. "I got here as soon as I heard, Mr. Airedale."

Frank and Joe followed at a respectable distance, the thought being that it was best not to overwhelm Mr. Airedale at this tragic time.

Bess began to introduce her friend, "Mr. Airedale this is Nan —"

Mr. Airedale shook his head and hands. "Later, later. Get Melinda for me. I need her here now. You, too, Bess. What I mean is, I want both of you here as soon as possible."

"Of course, Mr. Airedale. Right away," Bess said.

Nancy studied Lance Airedale for a brief second. Strands of gray threaded his dark hair. Lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and cupped his mouth. However, like so many older men, the gray and the lines added a distinguished touch to Mr. Airedale's still handsome face, a face now marred by grief.

And Nancy felt the grief was real. This wasn't a performance.

"Dear God," Lance Airedale moaned. His eyes met Nancy's and it seemed as if he were begging her to save him, to save him from this horrible nightmare that had so unexpectedly engulfed him.

"Go," he said and waved Bess and Nancy away. "Hurry. Please, hurry."

"Yes, Mr. Airedale." Bess grabbed Nancy by the arm again and they hurried to Frank and Joe.

The group merged and walked to the elevators.

"Should I call Melinda or should we go to her room?" Bess asked her friends.

"Let's go to her room," Nancy said. "News like this should be told in person."

The group stood in front of the elevator.

Frank said, "How about you girls find Melinda and meet with Mr. Airedale. Joe and I will do a quick sweep of the hotel. We can all meet up later."

"Good idea," Nancy said. "We all have cell phones, so we can keep in touch."

Everyone nodded agreement.

The elevator doors opened and out stepped a tall, leggy woman with long jet-black hair. Small black eyes set off flawless, porcelain skin. She was attractive in an unconventional way and her tight blue dress showcased her slender frame.

"Melinda," Bess cried. "I was —"

Melinda Smith held up a manicured hand. "I just heard. I'm on my way to Mr. Airedale."

Frank and Joe parted and the woman passed between them. Joe's brow creased quizzically as he watched her walk. Her long strides revealed a previous life as a model, but at thirty-eight, Melinda Smith was far too old for the runway. Ten years ago she had transitioned to design consultant and then personal assistant, jobs she knew had a much longer lifespan than model.

Bess followed a step behind Melinda.

Frank touched Nancy's arm. "Joe and I are going to take off."

Joe grabbed an elevator door and held it open.

Frank whispered to Nancy, "Let's meet up in about an hour or hour and a half. Okay?"

"Yes, perfect," Nancy said.

The brothers disappeared into the elevator and Nancy followed Bess and the enigmatic Melinda to Mr. Airedale's room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Nancy and Bess waited in the hotel's _Pahlua Bar and Grill_ for Frank and Joe. Almost two hours had passed since the group had parted ways.

"I'm going to freshen up," Nancy said.

Bess watched her friend walk away. She took a long sip of the mango iced tea she'd ordered and tried to relax. The bamboo pronged fans spinning overhead mimicked the thoughts whirling in her mind.

The last hour had been intense, very intense. Bess recalled the look on Mr. Airedale's face when the police arrived. She couldn't quite place the expression – fear, dread, anger, apprehension? Perhaps it was all of them mixed together, or maybe, none of them. Bess couldn't be sure what expression Mr. Airedale wore and slumped in defeat. However, there was one thing she _was_ certain of – her boss was _not_ a murderer. She sat a little straighter, her confidence mounting. She sensed in her heart that he was truly devastated by his wife's murder.

Nancy had told her, 'He's in shock, Bess. His emotions are all over the place. It's a natural and normal response.' Bess would have to take her friend's word for it. Nancy had experience dealing with people and death since she was a private investigator.

And then the police and their questions. Questions, questions, questions! Poor Mr. Airedale, Bess thought as she sipped her tea, her hand getting wet from the condescension rolling down the glass. She picked up her napkin and dried her hands. Relax, she told herself, you're in Hawaii in a beautiful five-star hotel. You've got Nancy and the Hardys with you. They'll get this whole mess sorted out.

Bess breathed deeply and surveyed her serene surroundings. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling and lined the _Puahlua Bar and Grill's_ coral-colored walls. Each window offered a fabulous view of the ocean and at this moment, a magnificent Hawaiian sunset. The darkening sky filled with an ever-changing rainbow of colors. Yellow, reds, oranges, and pinks. The gray hued ocean sparkled beneath the setting sun as it prepared to accept its nightly guest.

Artificial palm trees and real plants were strategically scattered throughout the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_ providing diners with privacy and ambience while they enjoyed food and drinks at wicker tables and chairs.

The tension of the past hour began to melt as Bess admired the sunset. Finally, she relaxed.

Nancy returned looking refreshed, with neatly combed hair and a fresh coat of lip gloss.

"It's so beautiful here," Bess said as Nancy sat down.

"It is." Nancy reached for her tea and spied the view beyond the windows. For one brief moment she allowed herself the luxury of taking in the beautiful sunset. "The Hardys haven't shown up yet?"

"Nope." Bess stirred her tea with her straw. "So, while we wait for the guys, you can tell me more about your relationship with Frank."

Nancy felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "Well, like I told you a week ago we're giving it a try. He and Joe are planning on opening a detective agency in River Heights. They've asked me to partner with them."

"Yeah, you told me all that." Bess was looking for new information, not old. She lived and worked in Chicago, a two hour drive from River Heights. "But have they looked for office space?"

"Not yet. He's had to take it easy while his arm and ribs healed." Nancy's blue eyes clouded over as she thought back to five months earlier when she and Frank had unexpectedly reunited over a case. The case had turned out to be a very personal and difficult one for Nancy as it involved the death of her mother. But, with Frank and Joe's help, they had solved the twenty year old case and brought a killer to justice. Howver, Frank had been seriously injured, suffering a compound fracture of the left arm and two broken ribs. It had taken him months to heal and an additional two months of physical therapy for his arm.

"He looks pretty healthy to me now," Bess said with a devious smile.

"Yes, he does." Nancy blushed as she bent to sip her tea.

She hadn't seen Frank since that case ended five months ago. Oh, they'd made countless plans to get together, but something always got in the way. Detective work, Nancy thought ruefully. It made having a social life very difficult. Her detective work/life had been the very reason her longtime boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, had broken up with her years ago. She couldn't say she blamed him. However, they'd remained steadfast friends and Nancy had happily attended Ned's wedding a few months ago. She was truly happy for Ned and he'd married a wonderful girl, one that fit his lifestyle and life expectations much better than Nancy ever would.

Bess spotted Frank and Joe entering the _Bar and Grill_. "At last, there they are," she announced.

Nancy followed Bess's gaze, and along with Bess, stood and waved to the guys.

Moments later Frank eased his tall frame into the chair next to Nancy and gave her a warm smile. She returned the smile and thought, I haven't even had a chance to be alone with him since this trip started.

Joe plopped into the chair beside Bess and informed everyone, "This is a one huge hotel."

Frank succinctly summed up their search. "We came up empty. How'd you two do?"

Before Bess or Nancy could answer the waitress appeared with glasses of water and menus.

"Food," Joe exclaimed almost grabbing the menu from the waitress's hand. He ignored the chorus of laughter that erupted around him and concentrated on the menu. His stomach had been grumbling for the past two hours and food was the only thing on his mind.

"Would you like something to drink?" the waitress asked.

"A cold beer," Frank said pulling his wallet from his shorts ready to produce ID.

The waitress waved him off. "I trust you. You have an honest face."

"I'll have a beer, too," Joe said momentarily losing interest in the menu. A cold beer sounded too good to pass up.

"I'll need to see some ID," the waitress said.

"What? Don't I look honest?" Joe was baffled that his legendary charm had failed him. He pulled out his ID and politely handed it to the waitress. "Looks can be deceiving," he told her.

"I know," she said as she read the birth date. "I know all too well."

After the waitress departed Frank said, "So, I'm guessing there's no dinner tonight with Mr. Airedale."

"That's right," Bess said, her brow creasing at the thought of poor Mr. Airedale. "He's way too upset."

Nancy shared her opinion of Mr. Airedale, "He seems genuinely grief stricken by his wife's death."

"Did you learn what happened?" Frank leaned closer to the women. Joe was absorbed in the menu again.

Bess gestured for Nancy to give the details.

Nancy pushed a strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind an ear and then recited the facts she had learned. "Gwen Airedale was shot in the chest and died instantly. Mr. Airedale says he was out of the room for approximately two hours. He had meetings with several people. He checked on the set construction for the show first then checked on the arrival of some of the outfits. Finally, he checked on the arrangements for tonight's dinner. He was going to welcome everyone here, including us."

"Melinda's cancelling the dinner arrangements," Bess added almost as a afterthought.

"I have a list of all the people he met so we can confirm his story and create a timeline," Nancy said.

Frank smiled. He would have done the exact same thing.

"I reminded Mr. Airedale," Nancy said, "that we're detectives. But, like Bess said, he was so distraught … I didn't want to push him. He was already pushed to the limit with the police and their questions."

"I didn't like the way they were questioning him," Bess suddenly spat out. "They seemed to be accusing him of committing the murder."

"The husband is always the first suspect," Frank said reasonably. "Usually they're the ones who have the most to gain. Usually, money or love is the motive for murder. Speaking of which, do you know anything about Mr. Airedale's finances? How's his business doing?"

The waitress appeared with two frosty beers. "Ready to order?"

After placing their orders Frank took a sip of his beer and got back to his questions. Looking at Bess he asked, "So, do you know anything about his business finances? Good or bad?"

Bess shrugged wearily. "I haven't a clue. As far as I can tell the business is doing great."

"How about a girlfriend or mistress?" Joe asked joining the conversation. Now that food had been ordered he could devote his attention to other things.

Bess scrunched her face. "No … no … Mr. Airedale seemed completely devoted to his wife. I've never seen, or heard, anything that would indicate otherwise."

Frank took a long pull of beer and then said, "Okay, let's look at this from another angle. Did Gwen Airedale have enemies? Was she liked or disliked?"

"Well," Bess said haltingly, "Gwen wasn't the most _liked_ person. I don't mean that harshly and I actually liked her, but I know that others in the company thought she was a bit of a gold-digger and kind of arrogant." Bess shook her head woefully. "I hate speaking ill of the dead. This all seems so unreal to me. I can't believe Gwen has been murdered."

Nancy placed a hand on Bess's back. "We're here for you. And we're going to figure this out."

"Wow," Joe said. "That's a gorgeous sunset."

"Very romantic," Bess said stealing a glance at Frank and Nancy.

Frank looked at Nancy and took her hand under the table. Leaning closer he whispered, "Maybe tomorrow we can enjoy the sunset … on the beach … _alone_."

Grinning, Joe leaned closer. "What's that you say, sunset … beach … alone?"

Frank rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sometimes, his younger brother acted too young.

"What are we going to do with them?" Bess kiddingly asked Joe.

"Get'em a room?" Joe said with a chuckle and Bess giggled.

"I have a room," Frank said and cast a mock glare at Joe. "It just has a pest problem — one really big pest!"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Joe said with mock chagrin and smiled. His smile widened when he saw the waitress approaching with their food.

"Two _Bora Bora Burgers_ ," she announced and placed juicy burgers and fries in front of the guys. After all Joe's careful study of the menu he'd opted for basic American cuisine.

"And for the ladies, _Pele Seafood Towers_."

"Mmmm." Bess eyed her entrée hungrily. A bed of lettuce topped with fresh vegetables and fruit formed a ring around the plate. In the center rose a tower of fresh seafood. "This looks beautiful _and_ delicious, but I doubt I can eat all of it."

"I can help," Joe offered as he took a bite of his burger.

"I bet you can." Bess playfully smacked Joe's arm then picked up a fork and skewered a large shrimp. She really liked the younger Hardy brother with his dancing blue eyes, wavy blond hair and playful personality. Joe was full of charm and could certainly use it to his advantage when needed, but Bess viewed him as a good friend and nothing more.

Thirty minutes later, Nancy picked up her napkin and patted her mouth. She leaned back in her chair and put a hand on her stomach. "That was so good, but I'm full. I can't eat another bite."

"Me, too." Bess said putting her fork down. She watched as Joe grabbed a shrimp off her plate and popped it in his mouth. "Don't you ever get full?"

"Occasionally," he admitted with a boyish grin then his face turned to fright. He stared at the figure fast approaching their table.

"Bess!" Melinda Smith hissed startling the group. "Thank goodness I found you and your friends."

Bess pushed back her chair. "Is something wrong, Melinda? Is Mr. Airedale all right?"

Melinda waved a slender white hand. "He's fine. Well, physically anyway. What I've come to tell all of you. Is," she paused and looked around, suddenly aware of the other diners. She bent and her long black hair fell forward like a curtain. She lowered her voice and said, "What I wanted to say, is that Mr. Airedale has checked your references," her comments were directed at the Hardys and Nancy, "and he wants to employ your services as detectives. He wants you to find his wife's killer."

She stood erect and waited for an answer. Nancy, Frank, and Joe sat in stunned silence.

When no one answered, Melinda stuck out a hand and asked, "Well? What can I tell Mr. Airedale? Will you take the case?"

"Yes," Frank said, speaking for the group. "Yes, we'll take the case."

"Good. You start immediately. Remember, you're already on the expense account. Your pay has just increased."

And with that she turned and walked away leaving Joe with his mouth hanging open. He'd wanted to ask how much more they were getting paid.

As Melinda strode away on her long legs, Nancy mused, "She's kind of attractive."

Frank grimaced. "Um, kinda." He tried to see the beauty, but honestly it escaped him.

"In a creepy, spidery, sort of way," Joe said with a shudder. "She reminds me of someone." His brows knit together. "Some one on TV … I think." He rubbed his chin. "Oh yeah! The Addams family."

"Morticia," Bess suggested with a giggle.

Joe snapped his fingers. "Exactly, Morticia."

"People in the company call her that," Bess explained. "Of course, not to her face. I know she comes off as kind of haughty, but she's really very nice once you get to know her."

Joe gave Bess a sideways glance. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

Joe was none too sure about Melinda Smith.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Nice to see the interest in the story. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So, Smithy was right about the timeline regarding Ned's wedding. I went back to Chapter 3 and changed it from 'a year ago' to 'a few months ago.' Thanks, Smithy! And thanks to those who have left a review! Now on to the story._

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

After dinner, Frank said, "Now that we're officially on the case I'd like to figure out our game plan. Go over what we know and don't know and I think it'd be best if we discussed that in the privacy of one of our rooms."

"We can use our room," Nancy said. "If that's okay with Bess."

"Fine by me," Bess said.

The group arrived at the women's room and Bess slid the key card into the door's slot. A familiar click and flashing green lights signaled the door was unlocked.

Joe stepped forward. "I'll hold the door."

"Thanks," Bess said and switched on the lights as she entered the room.

Nancy checked her watch. Eight forty-five pm. No wonder she was feeling a little tired, but like Frank she was anxious to go over the facts they'd gathered and decide on a game plan.

Bess kicked off her sandals, tossed her handbag on one of the double beds, and collapsed next to it. "What a day," she mumbled.

"We can sit over there." Nancy pointed Frank and Joe in the direction of a glass table and chairs located at the far end of the room.

The room was identical to Frank and Joe's. Taupe colored wallpaper with a bamboo motif gave the room a tropical feel. Two double beds separated by a nightstand and lights took up one wall. A large armoire containing a TV and closets dominated the wall across from the beds and provided excellent TV viewing while relaxing in bed – if one was so inclined. A computer desk and chair shared the same wall as the armoire.

Frank and Nancy took seats at the glass table while Joe pulled up the chair from the computer desk. Bess forced her tired body into a sitting position on the bed.

Nancy pulled a notebook from her handbag and flipped through the pages. "Okay, here's what I have. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale arrived yesterday at about three o'clock."

"At the hotel?" Frank liked to be specific.

"Yes," Nancy answered with a nod.

Joe shook his head sadly. "Only in Hawaii one day and his wife is murdered. That's rough. They didn't even have a chance to enjoy the place."

"How true," Nancy agreed. "Mr. Airedale told the police that he and his wife unpacked yesterday then went to the hotel's _Hanalei Bar_ and had drinks on the terrace. They took a quick stroll on the beach and then met Melinda for dinner in the _Waikiki Restaurant_."

"That's in the hotel, too and it's expensive," Frank said. He and Joe had seen every restaurant and bar in the hotel during their search. They now knew the complete layout of the hotel and grounds.

Nancy continued reading from her notes, "After dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Airedale returned to their room and watched the sunset from their balcony." Her eyes flickered to Frank. His earlier comment about the beach and sunset came to mind, but she quickly returned to her notes. "Mr. and Mrs. Airedale talked for awhile and went to bed early."

Joe drummed his fingers on his thigh. "Sounds like a pretty uneventful day to me."

"Except," Frank said and all eyes turned to him, "at some point the murderer spotted the Airedales."

"Yeah," Joe said slowly, "he could've seen them at the bar or the swanky restaurant."

"The Airedales have been here a full day. The murderer had plenty of time to find out what room they were in and plan his attack," Frank said.

Nancy said, "And whoever the murderer is, he came prepared, he had a gun."

Joe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Crime of opportunity or was Gwen Airedale the intended target?"

Frank frowned as he mulled over those options. "What about today?" he asked nodding at Nancy's notepad.

"Today." Nancy consulted her notes. "Today, the Airedales were together until approximately two thirty or two forty-five. That's when Mr. Airedale left the room to check on things for the fashion show. He met with John and Kate Mansville in the lobby."

"I know them," Bess spoke up. "They're big names in the design and fashion industry."

Joe turned to Bess. "Have you met them?"

"Only once," she said, slumping a bit in defeat. "When I said I knew them, I meant more as in I know of them. Sorry, I guess I'm not being very helpful."

"You're very important to our investigation," Frank said with sincerity. "Anything you can tell us about the Mansvilles is useful. Do you think either of them could be a murderer?"

"Gosh, no." Bess was emphatic. "They're in their late fifties or early sixties and they're the nicest couple in the world. I can't imagine either of them being a murderer."

"Well, we'll check their backgrounds anyway," Frank said. He grabbed the complimentary hotel notepad and pen resting on the table and scribbled John and Kate Mansvilles' names on it.

Nancy continued from her notes, "Mr. Airedale and the Mansvilles checked the stage construction and lighting and ordered some changes be made. Shortly after that Melinda Smith joined them and they all inspected the outfits for the show."

"That's another person we need to check out," Joe said, "Melinda Smith."

Frank wrote her name on the pad.

"I'm telling you, she really is nice!" Bess insisted.

Joe smiled at Bess. "You say everyone's nice."

Bess pouted and crossed her arms defiantly. "Well, they are." A smidgen of anger washed over her. She knew these people and her friends didn't. She'd worked with these people for the past two and a half years.

"It's okay," Nancy said in an effort to calm and reassure her friend. "And we really do value your opinion, but we have a job to do and it's important that we remain objective. We wouldn't be doing our job if we didn't consider every possibility."

"And every possible suspect," Frank added.

Bess let out a heavy sigh. "I know, you're right." She plopped back against the pillows on her bed and spoke more to the ceiling than her friends. "I just can't imagine any of the people I know being a murderer."

"Maybe none of them are," Joe said. "At this point, we don't even know if Gwen Airedale's murder was planned or it was a robbery gone bad."

"A random robbery is a very real possibility," Nancy said although she didn't feel that was what had happened. Mr. Airedale had not mentioned anything missing from his room and the brief glimpse Nancy got of the room showed it was not ransacked.

Joe nodded at Nancy. "Exactly. Where was Mrs. Airdeale found?"

"Behind the couch," Nancy said, "which could suggest she was trying to hide or take cover."

"This _wasn't_ a robbery," Frank said firmly.

"Huh?" Joe frowned. "You can't be sure of that."

Nancy's blue eyes shone with curiosity.

"Think about," Frank said as he glanced at each of his friends. "Mr. Airedale hired us less than three hours after his wife was murdered. That tells me he knows something, something he didn't tell the police, something important. If he truly thought his wife was murdered during an attempted robbery he'd have let the police handle this case all on their own. He wouldn't need us as Melinda said, 'to find his wife's killer.'"

Frank's reasoning impressed Nancy and a discreet smile of admiration curled her lips when she spoke, "I think Frank's right and we need to meet with Mr. Airedale first thing in the morning to get some answers. Some _honest_ answers."

Bess started to speak, but the chirping of her cell phone stopped her. She reached for her handbag and withdrew her phone. "It's a text message from Melinda," she informed her friends.

Joe flashed a wary look. He wasn't at all sure Melinda could be trusted.

"Well, you got your wish," Bess said, dropping her phone on the bed. "Mr. Airedale wants to meet with all of us tomorrow morning at 9am sharp."

"Perfect," Frank said.

Nancy looked at her watch. "Goodness, it's after 9pm. I need to call dad and Hannah. With everything that's happened I completely forgot to call home."

Frank tore the sheet of paper with the suspects' name from the notepad and got to his feet. "Joe and I need to get going. We haven't called our folks yet either. When I call them I'll ask dad to have Walter or Maggie run background checks on some of these names for us." He held up the sheet of paper.

Frank and Joe's father was the well known Fenton Hardy. He'd started his career as a detective for the New York police department. He'd resigned years ago to accept cases of his own. His reputation quickly grew and he started the very successful Hardy Detective Agency. Walter and Maggie were two of the agency's employees.

The group said their good-nights and once the door shut behind the Hardy brothers Bess collapsed on her bed.

"Oh," she moaned, "what a day. I hope you, Frank, and Joe catch this killer soon."

"As do I," Nancy said.

She scooped her handbag off her bed and dug through it in search of her phone. She was anxious to call her father and their longtime housekeeper, Hannah, and tell them about her new case. Her thoughts drifted to Frank as she dug through her bag. The quicker this case was solved the better chance she had of spending time _alone_ with him.

Two hours later Nancy and Bess were ready to turn in for the night. Both had phoned their parents and informed them of the murder. Of course their parents were concerned, but anyone who knew Nancy Drew knew mysteries and murders usually found their way into her life.

As Nancy pulled back the bed covers her phone rang. She picked it up from the bedside table and her eyes lit up when she saw the caller ID.

 _Frank._

Frank's deep voice came over the line. "I know it's late Nan, but well, it's Hawaii and there's a full moon and we haven't had two minutes alone since we arrived."

Nancy sighed softly. "I know." She looked at the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. She and Bess had left the doors and drapes open to enjoy the cool, evening breeze.

"What would you say to a quick stroll?" Frank asked.

Nancy's blue eyes sparkled. "I'd say you read my mind."

"I'll pick you up in five minutes."

Exactly five minutes later Frank tapped on the door. Nancy was ready. She'd pulled on shorts, a tank top, and a light sweater. Frank wore cargo shorts and a blue polo shirt.

As soon as the door closed behind them Frank slipped a hand into Nancy's. It amazed her just how comforting that one simple gesture could be. A feeling of warmth spread over her and a smile of pure happiness lit her face. She leaned her head against Frank's strong shoulder.

"I've missed you," Frank said as they walked to the elevator.

"I've missed you, too."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you dear readers for the reviews, favorites, and follows. Anyone interested in some late night romance? About time, you say. LOL However, the mystery is never completely on the back burner ..._

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Finally, Nancy and Frank were alone. It was nearing midnight when the couple strolled through the hotel's spectacular lobby. A large circular fountain stood in the center. Elegantly choreographed jets of shooting water and colored lights were the main attraction on the fountain. Artificial palm trees wrapped in glittering white lights created a tranquil, cozy atmosphere that invited guests to linger.

Nancy and Frank did not linger. They continued their stroll and took in all the hotel's amenities. A gift shop came into view, but it was closed. Continuing on, Nancy and Frank came to a rental shop. Diving and scuba gear as well as fashionable swimwear were on display in the large windows.

The couple stopped in front of the window and Frank surveyed the diving equipment. "Joe's hoping we can get in some diving while we're here."

The Hardy brothers were skilled divers and their hometown of Bayport in New York gave them plenty of opportunity to practice. Their small town was located on Barmet Bay, a horseshoe-shaped inlet, not far from from the Atlantic Ocean.

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Nancy said, referring to the possibility of diving. "I don't think this murder's going to be easy to solve."

"Maybe not," Frank said somewhat disappointed. "Any free time we have will be very precious." He squeezed Nancy's hand. "That's why I couldn't let tonight end without seeing you."

Nancy smiled up at him. "I'm glad you didn't."

Frank remembered the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_ with its spacious terrace and great views of the ocean. He reminded Nancy of it and they decided to give it a try. However, when they got there it didn't live up to their expectations. Loud music poured from the doorway and the place was packed with hotel guests. Frank and Nancy were looking for a quiet, more intimate place. A place to truly be alone.

As they walked away, Nancy said, "Didn't you mention a full moon was out tonight? I still haven't seen it."

A mischievous glint flickered in Frank's eyes. "I know of a very private place where we can see it. If you're willing?" It sounded like a challenge.

"I'm always willing. I'd follow you anywhere," Nancy teased with a giggle. Besides, this adventure sounded fun.

Hand in hand, Frank led Nancy away. "It's a place Joe and I found when we did our sweep of the hotel."

Nancy noticed they were headed to sections of the hotel most likely frequented by the hotel staff and not guests. Her curiosity was most definitely piqued.

After many turns and stairs, they came to a tiled hallway leading to an exit. The exit led to the outside.

Frank pushed the door open for Nancy. "Right this way." He cast a glance over his shoulder before exiting himself.

A sidewalk extended a few feet beyond the doorway then dead-ended in soft sand. A single light fixture on the wall next to the door illuminated the immediate area.

Nancy and Frank walked to the end of the sidewalk and gazed upon the ocean sparkling a few yards beyond them. The water shimmered under the glow of a full moon. A rocky volcanic outcrop, rising three feet high, was to the left. Various shrubs dotted the landscape. To the right stood a grove of palm trees accompanied by a scattering of flowering shrubs. A metal staircase descended from above in a zigzag pattern and ended a few feet from the door.

Nancy pointed at the staircase. "A fire escape?"

"Probably," Frank answered. He took Nancy's hand and led her toward the ocean.

They stopped when the sand gave way to volcanic rock. The rough, dark outcrop made walking difficult especially in the dim light. Crashing waves sent up a mist of ocean spray.

Nancy took a deep breath of the salty air and gazed upon the full moon hovering in the inky black sky. "It's beautiful here. I'm glad you found this place."

"My search paid off then." Frank came up behind Nancy and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Cold?" he asked in a low voice.

"Not at all." She ran her hands along his bare forearms. Her fingers lightly traced the indentations of a long scar on his left arm, a permanent reminder of their last case together, a very vivid reminder that their work sometimes came with heavy consequences.

They stood for a long while in the sand, enjoying the view and each other. Waves crashed onto the shore and spilled over the volcanic rocks. The setting was perfect. The soothing sound of the waves eased away the day's tensions. Frank tightened his arms around Nancy's waist and she leaned the back of her head against his chest. They could have stayed that way forever for all she cared. But the ocean was unpredictable and the waves grew in size and force. Suddenly, a huge wave sent a sheet of water and mist high into the air. Droplets rained down upon the couple and, laughing, they rapidly retreated.

Nancy giggled with delight. "That was a little too close for comfort."

"Come with me," Frank's voice had turned husky and his eyes were dark and warm. He led Nancy to the staircase and guided her to the side away from the door, to the side where they would be hidden behind the staircase and tall flowering shrubs. This was a private spot just for them.

Frank maneuvered Nancy up against the staircase. She felt the cold metal chill her back, but she didn't mind. Frank's body, hot and solid, was pressed against her enveloping her in warmth and comfort. She saw the desire in his eyes as he gazed down upon her.

Her hands toyed with the hem of his polo shirt. She and Frank had never been this close before, not like this, so close she could feel the beating of his heart. She tilted her head in anticipation of a kiss.

Frank leaned down and kissed her hair. The flowery scent of her shampoo filled his senses and brought back memories of five months ago when they had last shared a kiss. That seemed incredibly long ago. Much too long ago.

He would take things slow and easy, he decided. He kissed her forehead lightly as though she was a delicate object. She was no such thing and he knew it. She was strong and confident, but he wanted to draw the moment out, to make it last. He kissed her cheek tenderly and gently.

The smell of his aftershave, strong and masculine just like him, awakened every nerve in Nancy's body. His stubble lightly raked her cheek as he moved his lips lower and kissed the hollow of her neck. A wave of shivers tumbled down her spine like a gentle waterfall.

She held back a moan as she slid her hands beneath his shirt.

He trailed light, lingering kisses along her jaw, over her chin and up her cheek, all the while avoiding the one place Nancy so desperately wanted his lips – on hers.

He was driving her wild with anticipation and desire. And when she thought she could stand no more, finally – at long last – his lips touched hers. Soft, warm, delicious, lingering, sensual. She ran out of words to describe the sensation and simply enjoyed it. Savored every heavenly second.

Her hands traced his bare skin beneath his shirt. How far should her hands roam? Let's keep it safe, she thought. Enjoy the moment, here with Frank, the sound of ocean waves lapping in the distance, a gentle breeze cooling her skin, and this kiss, the kiss she'd dreamed of for so long. It was perfect, better than her dreams, better than she'd imagined, so much better because it was real.

And just as she began to lose herself in the kiss, the door, the exit they themselves had used, creaked open. A stranger had suddenly invaded their private spot and private moment.

Frank lifted his head and peered through the railing of the staircase. A man stood beyond the range of the exterior light's glow. All Frank could see was the man's back.

The man cast a fugitive glance to the left and then the right. To Frank, this indicated the man did not want to be seen. Frank did not want to be seen either. Lucky for him, the staircase and flowering shrubs hid him and Nancy from the man.

Frank saw the question in Nancy's eyes and slowly shook his head. It was a warning. _Beware, we have company_.

Nancy turned quietly and peered through the railing. A man's silhouette came into view. He appeared to be of average height and weight and wore Bermuda shorts. He moved cautiously toward the beach. With each step he glanced left and right, constantly scanning for other guests. An occasional glance was thrown over his shoulder to check the door through which he had exited.

Frank pulled Nancy down, deeper into the shadows. Together they crouched in the sand and peered through the branches of the shrubs. They watched the man.

Who was he? Why did he seem afraid of being spotted?

The mysterious man stopped in the same area where Nancy and Frank had earlier stood – where the sand met volcanic rock. The moon hung above him like a silver disk. He withdrew something from a pocket, cast a few more glances up and down the beach, then reached back and hurled an object into the ocean. His mission accomplished, he turned and quickly strode away to the left, disappearing behind the rocky outcrop and shrubs.

Nancy and Frank crept from their hiding place. Nancy pointed in the direction the man had taken and raised an eyebrow. Should they pursue? Frank nodded and they took off.

When they got to the rocky outcrop and shrubs they looked all around. Nothing but empty beach greeted them. Their expressions fell in disappointment. Nancy felt the sting of defeat until Frank spotted what appeared to be a path leading back to the hotel's main entrance. Although Frank had a small flashlight, they decided not to use it, fearing the man might spot them.

The couple started along the winding, sandy path. However, after only a short distance, the going became difficult. Large rocks, gnarled pieces of drift wood, and large dry palm leaves littered the ground.

Nancy wondered if this was even a path. She picked her way through the debris and started to question the wisdom of coming this way .. and at night.

"Can you see where you're going?" Frank whispered behind her.

"Not really," she said over her shoulder and then down she went, landing unceremoniously on her bottom. "Ow!"

"Nancy!" Frank knelt next to her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I just tripped over a piece of wood." She felt quite foolish.

Frank placed a hand under her elbow and helped her up. "You sure you're okay?"

"Positive." Thankfully, Frank could not see her blushing violently. She brushed off her shorts. "Only thing bruised is my ego."

Frank turned in place and scanned the beach, the shrubs, and the hotel. At last, he said, "I think we've lost him. If he came this way he must've had a flashlight."

"I was thinking the same thing," Nancy grumbled. "Or he knows his way around a lot better than we do."

"That's a possibility. Hey, it's late. We should probably get back before Bess or Joe gets worried about us."

Nancy agreed. On the way to her room she and Frank discussed the mysterious man. He'd clearly been afraid of being seen on the beach. Both Nancy and Frank thought he was a good suspect for Gwen Airedale's murder. If only they could have followed him and catch a glimpse of his face. However, the bigger question was, what had he tossed into the ocean?

They arrived at Nancy's room and she smiled. "That certainly was fun, Frank. Romance and mystery all in one night." She slid her arms around Frank's neck and felt his arms encircle her waist. "Thanks for inviting me on a stroll."

"My pleasure." He pulled Nancy to him and their lips met for a long, slow kiss.

At last they parted.

"We really need to get some sleep," Nancy said. She regretted that humans actually needed rest. It was something that did not come easy to her. She preferred action over inaction. "We have a big day tomorrow, not to mention our meeting with Mr. Airedale at nine. Plus, I can't wait to tell Bess and Joe what happened tonight."

"Me, too." Frank reluctantly let go of Nancy.

She pushed her key card in the door and opened it.

Joe's voice greeted her, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the wayward wanderers."

"Joe?" Frank followed Nancy into the room.

Joe and Bess sat at the glass table. Two empty bowls and spoons betrayed the guilty pleasures of a midnight snack.

Joe stood, stretched, and yawned. "Hey, we can't let you two have all the fun."

"I guess not." Frank smiled and let the door close. "And speaking of fun, little brother, you and I are going to have some real fun tomorrow."

The gleam in Frank's eye told Joe something was up. "Huh? What kinda fun?"

"You're getting your wish. We're going diving." A huge grin spread across Frank's face. He was as excited about diving as his brother would be.

"Diving?" Joe's excitement was tempered by curiosity. Why was diving suddenly on the agenda?

Frank and Nancy quickly told Joe and Bess about the mysterious man and their suspicions.

When the story was complete a still doubtful Bess asked, "You really think he's the murderer and that he threw the murder weapon in the ocean?" She looked from Frank to Nancy and back to Frank. "And you really think you can find it by diving?"

Frank shrugged. "Guess we'll find out tomorrow."

# # # #

 _He_ slipped into his room, stripped off his clothes, and slid into bed next to his wife.

"Where have you been?" she snapped. He'd left her alone yet again.

"My nightly stroll," he kept his voice calm although her angry outburst had irritated him.

"There's a crazed maniac on the loose," she hissed.

"What are you talking about?" He was mildly interested.

"Gwen Airedale. I think she was murdered."

"What makes you say that?" Now he was definitely interested.

"I've heard talk from the other wives. It's all just talk at this point, but they're saying it was murder. And you know what that means?"

"No." He really didn't know what that meant, at least not in his wife's mind. He couldn't figure out what was in her mind half the time anyway let alone now.

"It means there's a murderer in this hotel," she said it as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world.

"Oh," was all he could muster.

"Well, you need to be careful. You need to stay close to me and protect me." She practically whined the last part. "I don't know how I'll be able to sleep in this hotel knowing there's a murderer lurking somewhere in it." She reached for his hand and their fingers entwined.

"Don't worry, you're safe with me," he said tenderly.

Good thing she couldn't see the evil smile curling the corners of his mouth. He wanted to laugh. If only she knew she was _sleeping_ with the murderer.

She was perfectly safe though … that is, until he decided otherwise.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Aha, so Smithy strikes again. She is indeed correct about my error of upper state New York. Thanks, Smithy! I think you should proofread these chapters before I post them. :) A big thank you to those who have left a review. It's always nice to read those, even when they prove me wrong. Actually, those are probably the most helpful. :)_

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Bess and Nancy jumped out of bed. It was late and they rushed to get ready for their meeting with Mr. Airedale. Clothes were fished out of suitcases, hair dryers blazed, curling irons waited patiently getting hotter by the second, and the gorgeous ocean view went completely unnoticed.

At last, Nancy pulled the room door shut behind them.

Bess looked at her watch and wailed, "Oh my goodness, we don't even have time for breakfast."

Nancy was incredulous. "You didn't think we would, did you?"

"Well, I was hoping we'd have time to grab something. I'm starving."

Nancy glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. "We have to hurry," she warned and sped up. Nancy hated being late. It was very unprofessional and being unprofessional was the last impression she wanted to make on Mr. Airedale.

Unbeknownst to Nancy and Bess a similar conversation was taking place a few floors below. The blond half of another duo was also grumbling about the lack of breakfast.

"Hey," the older, dark-haired brother said, "you had a midnight snack. You have no right to complain."

"Nine hours ago! That snack was _nine_ hours ago," Joe pointed out and his stomach rumbled in agreement. "If we're going diving this morning I have to have something to eat."

"Don't worry," Frank said as the brothers entered the elevator. "We'll eat as soon as we're finished meeting with Mr. Airedale. Dang it. I hate being late."

And I hate missing breakfast, Joe thought as the elevator carried them to the tenth floor.

The hotel management had moved Mr. Airedale to room ten twenty-five. His previous room, ten-eighteen, was officially off-limits. Yellow tape crisscrossed the door. The room was still being processed by a forensics team.

Frank and Joe strode quickly down the hall and passed room ten-eighteen. Black fingerprint dust was visible around the door handle and on the door frame.

Frank shuddered at the thought of what happened behind that door. The pure terror that poor woman must have felt. Why, he wondered, why had Gwen Airedale been murdered? He felt the answer to that question lay in Gwen herself. Frank was certain the more he knew about her, the better chance he, Joe and Nancy had of discovering her murderer.

"We're here," Joe said and tapped on the door of room ten twenty-five.

Melinda Smith opened the door and Joe flinched. Melinda was dressed all in black. Black pumps, a tight black dress with plunging neckline and slits up the sides. The slits revealed her best feature, a stunning pair of legs. Ruby red lipstick and a bright red necklace added a dramatic effect. It also intensified the contrast of her white skin against the black.

"Please come in," Melinda's said, her voice cordial.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and food – yes _food_ – wafted toward the brothers as they entered the well-appointed suite. Joe and his stomach eagerly followed Melinda into a large kitchen and dining area. A coffee station was set up in one corner of the kitchen's granite countertop. It offered locally grown Kona coffee, an assortment of tea, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

Bess and Nancy stood at the counter stirring their coffees. They greeted Frank and Joe with smiles and nods.

Warming trays of scrambled eggs and sausage were set up near the coffee station. A long dining table boosted platters of cheeses, fresh fruit, breads, butter and jams.

Melinda stood next to the table and said, "Mr. Airedale offers his sincere apologies, but he is running late this morning. Several issues have suddenly come up that he must attend to.

"The police have called with more questions," she sounded as if the police were interfering children, "and then there is the pressing issue of Friday's show. Everyone wants to know if the show is still on, which it is. And of course, condolence calls have been pouring in."

Her speech finished, she motioned at the food and drinks. "Please, help yourselves to refreshments and food while you wait. I'll return shortly." She turned and walked down a long hallway and disappeared into a room.

Joe grabbed a plate and ladled scrambled eggs onto it. "She doesn't have to tell me twice. I'm starving." He moved to the sausage tray.

Bess joined him. "Me, too."

Nancy and Frank followed suit and the group was soon seated at the table enjoying a simple, yet delicious breakfast.

Bess spread apricot flavored butter on a roll and murmured, "I can't imagine what Mr. Airedale is going through. I wonder if there's anything I can do to help?"

Joe lifted a forkful of eggs. "I wonder if we're still doing guard duty for the fashion show?"

Frank took a bite of eggs, swallowed, and said, "That's just one of the many things we need to ask Mr. Airedale this morning. I think we should make a list of questions so we don't forget any."

Nancy retrieved her trusty notepad and pen from her handbag and held them up. "I'll write down our questions. Number one, are we still on guard duty?"

"We need to know the names of the local detectives assigned to the case," Frank said, reaching for the cheese platter.

Nancy wrote while Joe speared a sausage link and said, "We need to ask Mr. Airedale if he knows something he didn't tell the police?" He hitched a thumb toward his brother. "I agree with Frank's theory. I think Mr. Airedale knows something."

Frank popped a cheese cube in his mouth. "Let's break the ice first though by asking him what the police told him. Do they know the type of murder weapon? How'd the killer get in? Was the door locked?"

"Whoa! Slow down a bit." Nancy chuckled and wrote as fast as she could using her own personal shorthand.

A door down the long hall opened and Melinda emerged. "Mr. Airedale will see you in a few minutes," she told the group. "We'll meet in the living room." She went to the coffee station and poured a cup of black coffee; no sugar, no cream.

Joe stuffed one more sausage link and some eggs in his mouth. The others quickly finished their food, patted their mouths, and pushed back their chairs.

Soon, everyone followed Melinda in to the living room. She placed the steaming cup of coffee on the glass coffee table and motioned for everyone to take a seat.

There was plenty of seating. Two long cream-colored sofas faced each other across the coffee table. Two large armchairs completed the seating options. A row of floor to ceiling windows and glass doors flooded the room with light.

Nancy, with her notepad ready, sat next to Frank on one sofa. Bess and Joe chose the armchairs at either end of the coffee table. Melinda remained standing, waiting for her employer. The wait was short. Lance Airedale appeared in the large doorway and Frank, Nancy, Joe, and Bess rose to greet him.

Frank extended a hand. "Mr. Airedale, I'm Frank Hardy."

Mr. Airedale shook Frank's hand. "Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking the case."

Frank did the introductions, "This is my brother, Joe, and this is Nancy Drew."

Mr. Airedale gave each detective a sincere handshake and then said, "Please, sit." He nodded at Bess. "Good morning, Bess."

Bess was stunned by her employer's haggard appearance. Although impeccably dressed, dark circles under his eyes told of a sleepless night. The grief Bess and Nancy had seen yesterday had deepened as if it had seeped into Lance Airedale's very soul.

The once straight and tall, debonair man now slouched. He was a man going through the motions of everyday life, but at the same time trying desperately to find his way out of the darkness that had descended upon him in one cruel, vicious act.

Lance Airedale lowered himself onto the sofa next to Melinda. "You're young," he said to the three detectives.

Melinda pushed the coffee she'd prepared closer to her boss.

"Thank you, Melinda." He took a sip and said, "Melinda checked your resumes and they speak for themselves. I have to say I was very impressed." He paused a beat and his eyes clouded. "I'll be perfectly honest. The police consider me the prime suspect. And I'm telling you right now, I _did not_ kill my wife. I loved my wife. I would never wish her any harm." He studied the young faces around him, reading their reactions.

He saw sincere expressions of belief, or at least the willingness to believe him. Satisfied, he said, "I want you to find my wife's killer and prove my innocence."

Frank leaned forward. "Sir, speaking for the group, I'd like to offer our condolences and assure you that we're going to do everything in our power to find the person, or persons, responsible."

Lance Airedale nodded slowly. He'd responded to so many words of sympathy over the past eighteen hours that he simply had nothing left to say. He couldn't bear to say the words 'thank you' one more time and really, what did he have to be thankful for?

"If you don't mind, sir," Frank said, "we have some questions for you. Your answers could help us in our investigation."

"Oh, yes, of course." Mr. Airedale hadn't expected to be questioned.

"I'm sure the police asked you this same question, but we need to ask it as well. Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your wife?" Frank kept his gaze firmly on the man sitting across from him.

Nancy sat with her notepad perched on her knee and her pen ready. Joe leaned forward anxious to hear Mr. Airedale's answer.

Lance Airedale sighed heavily. "You're right. The police did ask me that and I've racked my brain thinking about it. I've considered all her friends, our friends, my staff … and I … I keep coming up empty."

Frank decided to press to further. "Sir, I was wondering if maybe you had a feeling or perhaps a sense that something wasn't right. You may know something that you're not even aware that you know."

Mr. Airedale's startled expression caught Frank's keen eye.

"You're quite perceptive, young man. I .. I didn't say anything to the police yesterday, or this morning, they seem quite intent on keeping me _persona non grata_. But, yes, there is something. I hesitate to even mention it. I can't be even sure if it's important or if I'm just imagining things. To be honest, with all that's happened, I'm not sure I can trust my memory of the last two days."

Mr. Airedale was clearly distraught. His emotions swung from one extreme to another; grief, anger, and denial. Acceptance was a still long way off.

Nancy took over. Her gentle voice soothed the man's frayed nerves. "Anything you can tell us, Mr. Airedale, would be helpful, no matter how small or insignificant, or ridiculous you think it might be. Sometimes, it's the smallest clue that solves a case."

Melinda leaned over and whispered in Mr. Airedale's ear. His brow creased as he listened to Melinda. When she was finished, he spoke to the group, "There is something. Actually, it's more a feeling I had. I shared this with Melinda last night and she has just reminded me of it.

"Shortly after Gwen and I arrived at the hotel I sensed something was wrong. She seemed afraid. Maybe afraid is too strong a word. Maybe it was more like she was uneasy about something."

This was a new wrinkle in the mystery, Nancy thought, and asked, "Was there any particular thing your wife did or said that made you feel that way?"

"Yes. For weeks before we left on this trip and on the flight over, all Gwen talked about was what she wanted to do when we got here. She'd created a long to do list. She'd never been to Hawaii before and was, understandably, excited about our trip. This was going to be sort of a second honeymoon for us and to that end, she'd made me promise we would start with a stroll on the beach and a tropical drink in our hands. I gladly promised her we would. As I said, I loved my wife.

"Gwen had done her homework. She'd spent days on the Internet looking up the hotel and planning out which restaurants we'd eat at, what activities she'd wanted to do during our stay. So, I was more than a little surprised when she practically begged me to cancel our dinner plans the first night. When she didn't want to take the stroll on the beach either, I became concerned and started questioning her. She brushed my concerns aside saying she had a headache after the long flight. I accepted that, that made sense, but then when I said I was going to check out the hotel while she rested, she became almost frantic. It was clear she didn't want me to leave the room. That's when I really started questioning her. She was evasive and that made me more concerned. Just as my concerns were growing, she suddenly changed her mind. Suddenly, she wanted a drink and the stroll on the beach."

It was clear to the group that Mr. Airedale was perplexed by his late wife's shifting mood. He continued, "She seemed to relax once we had our drinks and strolling along the beach. However, I remember thinking she seemed to cling to me a little tighter than usual. Of course, I didn't mind. We were together and she seemed happy again. By the time we met Melinda for dinner I'd forgotten all about Gwen's change in mood."

Melinda said, "As Mr. Airedale said, we talked about this last night. I told him I too, had sensed an unease about Gwen. I can't really put my finger on anything specific. The only way I can describe it is that she seemed watchful or on alert. It was as if she were on the lookout for someone. She was very discreet about it though, just quick little glances at the door and at other diners in the restaurant. I asked her if she were looking for someone and she smiled, sort of played it off saying that she was keeping an eye out for old friends and acquaintances. This was the first fashion show she'd been to since marrying Mr. Airedale and coming to work for _Airedale Fashions,_ so it made perfect sense that she might be looking for people she'd worked with in the past."

There was a lapse in the conversation as the detectives processed this information.

Finally, Frank said, "Thank you both for sharing that information. It could prove very useful. We have another question. Has robbery been ruled out as a motive?"

"I'm not sure," Mr. Airedale said. "The police have considered that possibility and instructed me to thoroughly check mine and … and Gwen's belongings. I haven't found anything missing. Melinda helped me check."

Mr. Airedale reached for his coffee.

Melinda smoothed her shiny black hair behind an ear. "That's what the police were calling about this morning. They're still checking fingerprints but they didn't sound hopeful. It's a hotel, the detective informed me, there are thousands of fingerprints to sort through. Mr. Airedale and I were fingerprinted last night. The detective did not sound very hopeful that the fingerprints would lead to a suspect."

Some of the team's questions now had answers.

Frank looked at Nancy's notepad and then at Melinda and Mr. Airedale. "Do you know what type of weapon was used? Or how the killer got in the room?"

Mr. Airedale sipped his coffee and shook his head. "No idea. The police haven't shared any information with me."

"We'd like the names of the local detectives assigned to the case," Nancy said. "We'll contact them and see what information they're willing share with us."

"Melinda will get you their names and phone numbers and anything else you need." Mr. Airedale checked his watch. "I'm sorry, I have other business matters to attend to and .. and funeral arrangements to make."

He turned to Bess who'd sat quietly throughout the discussion. "Bess, I'm going to need your help now more than ever. I'm leaving the show in your's and Melinda's capable hands. She'll let you know what you'll be doing."

Bess was stunned. It took a moment for Mr. Airedale's words to sink in. "Of course, Mr. Airedale. Anything I can do to help."

She wouldn't let Mr. Airedale down, not now, not when he needed her the most. It pained Bess to see her boss in such utter despair. His eyes had once shone brightly displaying a zest for life. Now, that light was gone, violently snuffed out. Bess wanted desperately to bring a little of that light back.

Mr. Airedale rose and so did everyone else. He shook each detective's hand, nodded his thanks, and departed. Everyone was left standing around the coffee table.

Joe asked Melinda Smith the one and only question he had, "Are we still on guard duty?"

Joe's boyish demeanor and question amused Melinda. A coltish smile curled the corners of her ruby red lips. "No, I've already hired a team to replace you. Mr. Airedale wants the three of you to focus on finding the killer and clearing his name."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

After the meeting with Mr. Airedale the group split up and pursued separate missions. Bess stayed behind with Melinda to discuss the fashion show. Nancy, with the name of the Hawaiian detective assigned to the case, headed to the police station. Frank and Joe made their way to the hotel's rental shop to rent diving gear.

The Hardys were greeted by, Leilani, the rental shop clerk and a native Hawaiian. She was in her late twenties and an experienced diver.

"The area you mentioned is a coastal fringing reef," she told the brothers. "I've worked here six years and I've never had anyone want to dive there. Its too close to the hotel." She eyed them suspiciously as if she might refuse to rent gear for such a dive.

Frank decided honesty was the best policy. "Do you know about the death here at the hotel?"

"Yes, of course. All the employees are talking about it." She lowered her voice, "I heard it was a murder."

The hotel had managed to keep publicity of the death away from most guests and out of the local papers, at least for the time being. The hotel's official comment to the few guests that had inquired was that the police were doing a routine investigation as was required in any death. The idea being that guests would assume the death was due to a heart attack or stroke. It was a clever way to side step the issue for now.

Frank flashed his PI badge. "My brother and I are assigned to the case. During our investigation we saw someone throw something in the water there. We have to investigate all leads no matter what they are."

"You're going to try and find something in that reef?"

"Yeah. Have you ever dived there?"

"Once, when I first started here."

"What can you tell us about it?"

"Entry can be tricky. The volcanic outcrop makes for slippery walking and sharp edges. The reef varies in depth from between 20 to 60 feet. You'll need lights if you're going to search the bottom, oh, and tanks." She surveyed the diving gear lining the shop's shelves and began pulling items down.

Twenty minutes later the brothers were surrounded by a variety of equipment – wet suits, fins, tanks, lines and reel, goggles, and lights.

Joe looked up from his gear and lightly elbowed his brother. "Don't look now, bro, but here comes Magilla Gorilla."

"Who?" Frank frowned then followed the direction Joe pointed and spotted the guard they'd met outside Mr. Airedale's room on the day of the murder.

The tall burly guard peered at them through the shop's window.

He did resemble the cartoon gorilla Joe was referring to and Frank broke into a grin.

The guard had a jutting jaw, over-sized chest, and short bushy hair. A prominent brow protruded over his small dark eyes.

Frank remembered Joe's comparison of Melinda Smith to Morticia and said, "Anyone ever tell you you watch too much TV?"

"Mom. All the time."

"Well, she's right."

The guard lumbered into the shop. Frank and Joe watched as an unpleasant sneer settled on his face. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the dee-teck-tives." He laid a beefy arm on the counter and eyed the diving gear with mild interest. "Looks like you boys are planning on going diving."

Although the word 'boys' irked him, Frank replied evenly, "Yeah." He intentionally ignored the guard's condescending smirk and kept checking his gear. He wasn't going to let this guy get under his skin.

The guard leaned back and placed both arms on the counter. "Diving for pleasure?"

Leilani moved further away to finish writing the receipt for the Hardys. Her dislike of the guard was obvious to Frank and Joe.

"Nope." Frank could feel the guard's disdain. Frank kept his eyes on his gear and gave Joe a warning glance to say nothing.

The guard's jaw shifted from side and side and his bushy brow lowered over his eyes. "So, what'cha diving for?"

Frank detected a hint of anger in the guard's voice and hid his satisfaction. This guy thought he was better than the Hardys. That thought didn't sit well with Frank. Frank met the guard's icy glare with one of his own. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Frank saw the curiosity in the guard's eyes. _Great._ _Got him right where I want him_. "The murder weapon." Frank watched the information sink into the guard's bushy head.

The guard's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Real funny. That's a good one. I like a good joke now and then, but now I want a real answer. What are you diving for?"

"The murder weapon," Frank repeated. His gaze never left the guard as he turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder, "Joe, am I joking?"

"Nope." Joe stepped over his gear and stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother.

The guard's eyes continued to bore down on Frank. He towered a good two inches over the dark-haired Hardy who stood a respectable six-foot-one.

Joe was highly amused by the confrontation between Frank and the guard. It was rare to see his older brother — the intelligent, calm, and controlled Hardy — elicit such disdain.

With exaggerated expressions, and a grin, Joe said, "Ahem, you see, I've known Frank my whole life. And one thing I can tell you about Frank is that he never, and I mean _never_ ever jokes. I mean, there are times when —"

The guard shoved Joe aside. He knew when he was being made fun of.

"Hey!" Joe balled a fist, ready to defend himself or his brother.

"Think you're pretty tough, huh?" The guard's face was an inch from Frank's. The big guard was all menace and muscle. "Well, don't ya, kid?"

Frank, fists clenched at his sides, stood his ground. "How much?" he asked with a sneer.

The question confused the guard, as it was meant to. He backed up a step and looked at Frank like he'd lost his mind.

"Huh?" the guard mumbled.

"How much you want to bet we _don't_ find the murder weapon?" Frank jabbed a finger in the guard's chest and growled, "Put your money where your mouth is."

Frank let the guard ponder that for a moment. He turned to Leilani at the counter. "Miss, how much was my security deposit for this gear? Two hundred dollars?"

"Um, yes. Two hundred even." Leilani's eyes were wide and round. The sudden hostility between her customers and the guard, Butch, had her completely bewildered. Leilani was not well acquainted with Butch Overton and after witnessing this little episode she planned to keep it that way.

"Thanks," Frank said, acknowledging Leilani's answer, but his eyes never left Butch. Frank's next comment was directed at Butch, "Here's the deal. Just between you and me. If my brother and I don't find the weapon then you get my security deposit, all two hundred bucks of it."

Butch rubbed his chin and thought it over. The deal sounded too good to pass up. And then, _who did these 'boys' think they were?_ _They were going to find the murder weapon by diving in the ocean? The ocean was a pretty big place to be looking for a murder weapon. Good luck with that!_

# # # #

Half an hour later, Frank and Joe stood on the beach squinting in the bright sunshine. They wore swim shorts, t-shirts, and rubber-soled water shoes. Their diving gear and other equipment lay in piles at their feet. They were in the same area Frank and Nancy had been in last night.

Joe hitched a thumb toward a group of palm trees to the right. "Water bottles and towels go over there."

"Okay." Frank collected his gear.

Joe kept his eyes on the sand as they walked the short distance. "That was quite a bet you made with the guard."

A trace of anger arose in Frank. "He ticked me off."

Frank and Joe stepped into the shade of the palm trees. The shade was a welcome retreat from the blinding sun.

Joe dropped his gear on the sand. One thing most people didn't know about Frank, Joe thought, was that Frank had a temper. A well-controlled temper, but a temper nonetheless. Early on, as the younger brother, Joe had learned not to push Frank too far and over the years Frank had learned to control his temper and emotions extremely well.

He's like a Vulcan. Joe grinned at the comparison. Another TV comparison. Maybe Frank and mom were right, maybe he did watch too much TV.

Joe quickly shook his head. _Nah. No way_.

"I don't know why he doesn't like me?" Frank said, bringing Joe out of his reverie.

"Yeah. Really weird." Joe lifted an eyebrow. "And what happens if we don't find a weapon?"

"We'll find the weapon. We're not leaving here until we do."

Joe looked out over the blue-green ocean and groaned, "That could take all day. And what if you're wrong? What if there's no weapon to be found?"

"Nancy and I saw the man throw something. What else could it be? Why would anyone wait until midnight to throw something in the ocean? It's the murder weapon. It's the only explanation that makes sense."

Joe chuckled. "I'm surprised you saw anything. If I was on this beach at night with an attractive woman … the woman of my dreams," he cooed and skillfully dodged Frank's attempted punch, "I wouldn't be watching murderers throw things in the ocean. I might be doing other things, if you know what I mean."

"And who says we weren't doing other things?" A smug smile betrayed Frank.

Joe laughed. "I thought so." He knew better than to ask what _other things_. Besides, he had a good imagination and he didn't mind using it.

He reached for his wetsuit and unzipped the zipper. "Still, bro, what if we don't find the weapon?"

"Let's just get going." Frank didn't want to think about that possibility. He stepped into his wetsuit and zipped it up.

A few minutes later the brothers were decked out in BC jackets and air tanks. The BC, or buoyancy compensator jackets, had valves for releasing air which would allow the brothers to sink slowly. Sinking too fast could disturb the reef's fragile habitat or cause the brothers to kick up sand and obscure the diving site.

Frank and Joe followed basic scuba diving procedures and methodically tested their air hoses and pressure gauges and found everything in working order. Diving goggles circled their heads, mouthpieces hung over their shoulders and a set of fins were in their hands as they headed to the ocean. Joe carried a magnetometer for detecting metallic objects. Frank carried a net bag containing a water-proof measuring tape and ten white metal squares. The squares had black numbers printed on their sides. The squares would be used to mark the areas the brothers searched. This way, the brothers would not search an area twice.

Frank and Joe carefully made their way over the treacherous volcanic rock and down to the ocean. Their rubber soled water shoes did a good job of gripping the slippery rocks. When they got to the water they pulled down their goggles, slipped on their fins, and adjusted their mouthpieces. After giving each other a 'thumbs up,' they gently slid into the ocean.

# # # #

Forty-two year old Detective Lau sat in his office and read through the report on his desk. He was waiting for the private eye hired by Lance Airedale. Lau was a twenty year veteran of the Big Island's police force. He'd joined right after graduating college and had seen his fair share of crime in twenty years. Murder was nothing new to him. The fact that this murder took place in one of the Big Island's newest and most expensive hotels _was_ new though.

Lau had short, cropped, jet-black hair. Well-earned touches of gray graced the sides and top of his head.

A knock at the door drew his attention. His secretary entered and said, "The private investigator is here."

Lau rose and a young woman with strawberry-blonde hair stepped into his office.

The young woman approached his desk and stuck out a hand. "I'm Nancy Drew, one of the detectives working for Lance Airedale. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."

Lau shook her hand. She appeared young, but he admired her professionalism. He had checked her background and that of the Hardy brothers. The reports indicated that, in spite of their ages (twenty-four and twenty-three), they had more investigative and criminal experience than some of his seasoned detectives. The brothers were the sons of the famous Fenton Hardy, a name synonymous with success. Lau had also contacted police detectives in River Heights, Nancy's hometown. Lau had heard nothing but praise for Nancy and the Hardys. Apparently the trio had recently solved a case in that small town. Rivera, the lead detective, gave much of the credit for catching a serial killer to Nancy and the Hardys. That was all Lau needed to hear. Lance Airedale had hired a worthy team.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Detective Lau. Please, have a seat."

Nancy sat her handbag on the floor and eased into a comfortable chair in front of Lau's desk. Lau returned to his desk. Nancy noticed that his desk was rather cluttered. Nancy liked order and things to be tidy.

Lau was the opposite. His desk may be cluttered, but his mind never was. He worked cases with a fierce tenacity and never gave up. Like Nancy, he followed even the most insignificant lead if he thought it might solve the case. Those who worked for him were held to a high standard which meant he could be a demanding boss. Failure was not an option, not on his watch. It was the motto he lived by and expected others to do the same.

Lau folded his hands together and rested them on the desk. "So, how can I help you Miss Drew?"

"First, I want to make it clear that the Hardys and I intend to work _with_ the police and not against them. Any evidence we find will be brought to your attention immediately and in the spirit of full cooperation we're hoping you'll return the favor."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I checked your backgrounds and I admit your experience is impressive."

"Thank you. I suspected you would do as much." Nancy crossed her legs and leaned forward. "I know you're very busy, Detective Lau, and I don't want to waste your time so, I'll get right to my questions. Do you know what type of weapon was used to murder Mrs. Airedale?"

Lau leaned back in his chair. "I was just reviewing the report. The coroner removed a 9mm slug from Mrs. Airedale's chest. We haven't narrowed down the specific type of weapon yet. No shell casings were found at the scene."

"Pretty standard ammo," Nancy mused more to herself than to Lau. "Was Mrs. Airedale shot only once?"

"Yes. At fairly close range. The bullet nicked her heart. According to the coroner she died instantly."

"Any fingerprints, hair, or fiber evidence?"

"Nothing yet. But it's early still."

Nancy asked a few more questions, but Detective Lau had no further information. He told her the police were looking into the Airedales' backgrounds, particularly Gwen's. Nancy said the Hardys were doing the same via the Hardy Detective Agency in New York. She reiterated her promise that she and the Hardys would share any information they uncovered.

Lau said he and his department would do the same.

Nancy grabbed her handbag and rose. "Before I go, there is one more thing. The Hardys are searching the ocean right now hoping to find the murder weapon."

Lau was skeptical. "The ocean?"

Nancy explained about the late night stroll she and Frank had taken. She told of the man and how he'd thrown something into the ocean. She included the fact that she and Frank tried to pursue him, but to no avail.

Lau met this information with an expression of mild interest. His response was noncommittal, "I'm curious to see if the Hardy brothers discover anything."

# # # #

 _He_ wandered into the bar and slid onto a stool. A bartender promptly appeared and placed a napkin on the counter in front of him.

"What can I get you, sir?"

"A whiskey sour." The relaxed smile on his face matched his mood. Time for some celebrating. Gwen was finally out of the way, he'd disposed of the murder weapon, and his wife was off with ' _the wives' club_ ' as they called themselves. Yesterday they'd had facials, today it was hula dancing demos.

If he'd realized the importance of _the wives' club_ sooner he could have saved himself a lot of time and trouble. His wife, like the other two wives, had their own design labels and used the _Airedale Fashions_ runways to promote their fashion lines. _Airedale Fashions_ certainly didn't mind, actually it welcomed them and the hefty fees the wives paid to be part of the show.

If he'd gone to one of these fashion shows sooner maybe he would have found Gwen four or five years ago. How ironic, he'd been searching far and wide for her never realizing she'd married Lance Airedale and had been living in Chicago right under his nose the whole time.

The only reason he'd come on this trip was because it was in Hawaii. An opportunity he couldn't pass up. He'd never been to the islands and his wife had been ecstatic when he announced he would join her. The other husbands had always joined their wives for the fashion shows. He never had and it hadn't put him in the best light with the others.

The bartender returned. "Your drink, sir."

He took out a money clip, peeled off a twenty, and tossed it on the counter. The bartender collected the bill and left.

The whiskey went down hot and smooth. Lemon and lime juice added the sour note he liked so well. Whiskey sours were one of his favorites. They always made him feel like a million bucks. Well, his latest marriage had certainly put him closer to that mark and if things went according to plan … well, he'd have all the money and no wife.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks. They are always appreciated. :)_

 _To Smithy: I also think Frank, Joe, and Fenton are Mets fans. I know I'm one! ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Shafts of sunlight penetrated the blue-green ocean and reflected off of the rose-colored coral. Schools of fish, in every color imaginable, darted through an underwater kingdom of coral reefs and volcanic rock formations.

This was nothing like Bayport Cove, Joe thought as he swam through a sea arch. This place was simply amazing. If not for a murder investigation, Joe could have spent all day exploring the reefs. However, he had a job to do and returned his attention to the task at hand, sweeping the magnetometer over the sandy ocean floor.

Frank followed behind with the net bag and markers. For nearly two hours the brothers had searched in vain. They'd covered a lot of sea floor and had left several markers along the way. Frank checked his water-proof watch and realized they'd soon be out of air. He signaled Joe that it was time to surface.

Joe retracted the magnetometer's handle and adjusted the air valve on his BC jacket. With a slight kick of his fins he began to slowly ascend. A few feet away, Frank did the same.

Joe broke through the surface of the water first, shook his head, and pushed up his goggles. Frank emerged nearby and together they breast-stroked the short distance to the shore. Wearily, they climbed out of the ocean, removed their fins, and carefully picked their way over the volcanic rock and through the sand to their towels laying in the shade of the palm trees.

Joe doffed his gear and collapsed on a towel. "It was beautiful down there, bro, and I worked up one helluva an appetite. Not to mention, I'm tired … and disappointed we didn't find what we were looking for."

Frank removed his gear, sat on a towel, and used another to wipe the salty water from his face and hair. "Yeah, me too. But don't get too comfortable. This is only a break."

"Ughhh," Joe groaned, but he wasn't surprised, he'd figured as much. He knew Frank wouldn't give up searching for the murder weapon that easily. "What are we going to do about lunch? I can't keep going without food."

Frank retrieved his cell phone from a water-proof pocket of his BC jacket. It instantly chirped and momentarily startled him. "It's Nancy," he told Joe then spoke into the phone, "Hey, what's up?"

When Frank ended the call, he said, "She's bringing us lunch."

Joe's eyes popped open and his fist pumped the air. "Yay, I love that woman!"

"Me, too," Frank said and the brothers collapsed into laughter. They were both happy food was on the way. This would save them time and trouble.

Twenty minutes later Nancy, dressed in shorts, a dark pink tank top and sandals, trudged across the sand. Her handbag was flung over one shoulder and in her hand she carried a large paper bag by its rope handles. Her feet sank into the hot sand causing her to continually stop and shake her feet.

Sandals were definitely not the best choice of footwear for the beach, she thought and gave her right foot another frustrated shake. Then she spied the lifeless bodies of Frank and Joe sprawled on their towels. The guys had peeled off their wetsuits and laid them on volcanic rocks to dry.

Nancy stopped between the two prone men, dressed only in swim shorts. She took a moment to admire the view. Neither man moved. Neither man had noticed her arrival.

She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Well, if this isn't lying down on the job, I don't know what is."

Both brothers struggled into sitting positions and rubbed their eyes.

Joe yawned and ran his hands back and forth through his damp hair. "What'd you bring us, Nan?"

"He means ' _thanks_ ,'" Frank said, smiling up at Nancy.

Nancy lowered herself next to Frank and sat on his towel.

"No problem," Nancy said. Her eyes swept over the hard planes of Frank's muscular chest before she reached into the bag. "I figured we all needed lunch. This way we can talk about the case while we eat. I have club sandwiches, chips, and water."

She passed food and water bottles to each brother.

Joe dug into his double-decker sandwich immediately. "Mmm, mmm, mmm, this hits the spot." Between bites, he mumbled, "Thanks, Nan."

"You're welcome." Nancy ripped open a bag of chips, ate one, and told the brothers what she'd learned at the police station. She ended with, "So, I think Detective Lau will share information with us. I promised we'd do the same. I did tell him about your dive and the search for the weapon. He seemed interested."

Joe took a long pull from his water bottle. "Let's hope we find it." He glanced at Frank and decided not to say anything about the bet between Frank and the guard.

Frank stole some of Nancy's chips and said, "Joe and I aren't finished for the day. We need fresh air tanks though before we can continue the search. What are your plans for the afternoon, Nan?"

"I'm going to follow that trail or what we thought was a trail." She pointed at the volcanic outcrop. "You know, where the man disappeared last night. Maybe I can find something. You never know, he may have dropped something." She shrugged. "It's a long shot, but what do we have to loose?"

Frank swallowed the last of his sandwich and reached for his water. "It can't hurt to look."

"After that," Nancy said, "I have a meeting with Mrs. Mansville. She and her husband were with Mr. Airedale when he was checking things for the fashion show. I'm hoping Mrs. Mansville can tell me more about Gwen or at least give me her impressions of Gwen. The more we know about Gwen the better chance we have of figuring out who would've wanted to kill her."

"I agree." Frank rubbed the back of his neck and checked his watch. "Dang, its one thirty. Joe and I need to get those tanks if we're going to get two more hours of searching in."

"I'll help you get the tanks," Nancy said. "I'm not meeting Mrs. Mansville until three. She's at a Hula dance demo right now with _the wives' club_."

"Wives' club?" Joe frowned and pushed off his towel. He offered Nancy a hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Yeah," Nancy said, brushing sand off her shorts. "That's what she called it, the wives' club. I intend to find out who exactly the wives are and question all of them. If I'm lucky, one of them might have known Gwen before she married Mr. Airedale. One of them might even have been good friends with Gwen."

Frank grabbed his t-shirt. "I'll keep my fingers crossed that you uncover something."

He pulled the shirt over his head to Nancy's great disappointment. There goes the view, she thought wistfully.

The trio collected their trash and disposed of it in a nearby bin. Joe stayed behind with the gear while Nancy and Frank hurried off to get fresh tanks. By the time they returned Joe had donned his wetsuit and was slipping on his BC jacket.

"Looks like my brother's ready to go," Frank said.

"Time's a wasting," Joe said and took the air tank Frank handed him.

Nancy laid the tank she'd been carrying on the sand. "I need to start searching that trail. I'll see you guys later. Good luck with the search."

"Hey!" Frank caught Nancy by the wrist and gently pulled her to him. He nuzzled her neck and whispered, "How 'bout a kiss for luck?"

Nancy smiled, rose on her toes, and kissed him.

Joe cleared his throat rather loudly. "Hey, this might be a first. I'm ready before my brother."

Frank was quick with a comeback, "This just means you're not slowing me down for once, bro."

Joe groaned and finished putting on his gear.

Frank kissed Nancy again and stepped back. "See you later."

Nancy waved good-bye to the brothers and headed off for the trail. Her cheeks were aglow and there was an extra bounce in her step.

# # # #

Forty-five minutes later Nancy trudged through the hotel's main entrance. Beads of sweat lined her brow. Her trip through the hot sand had gained her nothing. She'd wandered around trying to make sense of the area, but quickly realized there was no trail. The mysterious man must have had a flashlight. How else could he have navigated that debris and plant filled terrain at night?

Nancy stepped into an elevator. The killer didn't just stumble upon that area. He had prior knowledge. He must have discovered it earlier in the day. He'd also made plans to dispose of the murder weapon .. late at night, on an isolated section of beach where he thought no one would be.

Yes, she thought as she exited the elevator, he'd planned this murder from the start. Planned it quite carefully and since he'd gotten rid of the weapon, Gwen Airedale was probably his one and only _intended_ victim.

An image of Gwen Airedale floated in Nancy's mind. Who were you, Gwen, and why did someone kill you?

Nancy opened the door to her hotel room. She had ten minutes before her meeting with Mrs. Mansville. A quick rinse of her face and a new coat of lip gloss refreshed her. Nancy grabbed her cell phone and was pleasantly surprised to find a message from Bess.

 _Hi Nan,_

 _Sorry I couldn't meet with you & the Hardys for lunch. I've been incredibly busy! Wow! Never knew how much work had to be done before a fashion show. I'm learning a lot and I have a surprise for you & the Hardys! I'll tell you all about it tonight at dinner._

 _See you at 5,_

 _Bess_

Nancy slid her phone into her handbag and hurried to the _Maui Bar and Lounge_ for her meeting. She was quite delighted that Bess had a surprise waiting for her and the Hardys.

"I wonder what it could be?"

* * *

 _A/N: To Smithy: ah, yes. And this is why I deleted this story and never reposted it. The mistakes. Actually, at one point I started editing this story and "Past & Present Danger" with the idea of making the characters older and giving them military backgrounds. That proved to be quite tedious and I abandoned both stories and removed them from this site. I started over and wrote "Meet Me at Midnight." I posted that story and I should've left things there. At some point I reposted "Past & Present Danger" and again should've left things alone. However, when you requested this story I decided to check my editing and repost it. As you can see, my editing leaves much to be desired. :)_

 _With all that said, I wish to Thank those who have left a review. Thanks for sticking with the story._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It was a few minutes after three when Nancy arrived at the _Maui Bar and Lounge_. She scanned the elegant interior and spied an older woman seated at a table near the windows.

Nancy approached the table and asked, "Mrs. Mansville?"

"Yes." The slender woman extended a manicured hand which Nancy gently shook.

"I'm Nancy Drew. Thanks so much for agreeing to meet me."

"No trouble at all. Please, have a seat."

Nancy obediently sat. "I'll try not to take up too much of your time, Mrs. Mansville."

The older woman waved the suggestion away. "Oh, please. I have plenty of time, especially for my dear friend, Lance. I want to see this .. this situation cleared up as soon as possible and anything I can do to help, I want to do it. And please, call me Kate. No need to stand on formalities. Between you and me, I hate formalities."

Nancy smiled. Kate Mansville appeared to be fun loving and practical. Just the type of person Nancy liked.

A waiter, holding a tray, materialized beside the table. He placed two items on the table: a plate of fresh fruit, bread, and cheeses, and a bowl of steaming, melted chocolate.

"I took the liberty," Kate said with a mischievous grin. "I ordered us a little snack. And please, have whatever you like to drink, the treat's on me."

Nancy started to protest, but Kate would have none of it. "I insist, it's the least I can do for Lance."

"In that case, thank you very much." Nancy certainly did not want to offend Mrs. Mansville. After all, the woman had agreed to meet her on short notice.

"I'd like a water, please," Nancy told the waiter.

"May I also suggest strawberry daiquiris for the lovely ladies?" he said.

Kate beamed enthusiastically. "That sounds marvelous. Shall we?" she asked Nancy.

Nancy felt she could hardly say no. "Yes, that sounds wonderful." One little drink wouldn't hurt.

The waiter departed with the order.

Kate skewered a large strawberry with a long toothpick and dipped it in the warm chocolate. "Oh my, this is heavenly. The fruit here is so fresh and delicious."

Nancy stabbed a piece of fruit and studied Mrs. Mansville. Light brown eyes twinkled beneath lightly tanned skin. Pale-blonde hair was parted on the side and swept across a still pretty face. Fine lines around Kate's eyes and mouth attested to the fact she was around sixty years old. However, she was trim and fit and still very attractive.

Nancy reached for her handbag and withdrew her trusty notepad and pen. "I hope you don't mind if I take notes while we talk."

"Not at all." Kate leaned closer to Nancy. "I don't mean to sound harsh, or insensitive, but this is rather exciting." Kate instantly shook her head and chided herself, "That does sound insensitive, doesn't it? But I honestly didn't mean it that way."

"I know what you meant," Nancy reassured her. "It's exciting to be part of an investigation. I'm certainly guilty of that."

"Yes, I suppose you are, being a detective and all. You look very young, dear. If you don't mind my asking, how long have you been a detective?"

Nancy quickly added the numbers in her head. Even she was surprised by her answer. "Eight years. I started when I was fifteen."

Nancy saw the surprise on Kate's face as well as admiration.

The waiter returned with glasses of water and two frosty, pink drinks. "Enjoy ladies. If you need anything else, please, don't hesitate to ask."

Kate lifted her long stemmed glass. "I propose a toast, Nancyh. Here's to your investigation, may you find the truth."

The glasses clinked together and the women took small sips of the frozen mixture.

"That's pure silky goodness," Kate said with a broad smile.

Nancy was quickly developing a fondness for the irrepressible Kate Mansville. She could easily imagine the older woman as the life of any party, her natural charm and friendliness would put anyone at ease.

As they ate and drank, Nancy asked questions. However, she soon found it difficult to keep the energetic Kate on topic. Ever the social butterfly and salesman, Kate frequently lapsed into details about her business ventures. She had an instinctive need to promote her fashion line. Nancy found herself asking the same questions over and over. It would be so much easier if Kate stuck to the topic at hand, namely Gwen.

At last, Kate sat down her empty daiquiri glass and said, "Oh dear, I don't seem to be very helpful. I'm telling you more about myself than Gwen. What was your question again?"

Before Nancy could repeat it, Kate went on, "You know, when we first heard about Gwen we, _the wives_ , thought she'd had a terrible accident. Maybe a fall or something. But then Lance said she'd been shot. That .. well, that changed things. I mean, that's murder. It is murder, isn't it?" Kate fixed an intense gaze upon Nancy and waited for confirmation.

Nancy nodded. "Yes, Gwen was murdered."

"Is there some crazed maniac in this hotel who's out to kill people? People in the fashion industry?"

Nancy was cautious in her answer. "I don't have many details yet. It's still early in the investigation. I have a theory about the murder though."

"You do?" Kate Mansville was clearly happy to hear this.

"Yes."

"My, but you do work fast."

"Actually, there are three of us working the case and we've already unearthed some clues. From what I've discovered, I'd say that Gwen was the only target. I don't think there will be other murders."

"You can't possibly be sure of that." Kate's wary frown said she seriously doubted Nancy's theory.

"You're right, I can't be one hundred percent certain and therefore, I strongly advise you and everyone to be extremely cautious. The killer could still be in the hotel."

Kate was aghast. "That's a scary thought. How in heaven's name do you hope to find him, or her?"

Nancy smiled. Finally, Kate had hit upon the most important question.

"By getting to know Gwen," Nancy said. "I'm convinced she's the key to the whole puzzle. That's why, anything, and I mean _anything_ you can tell me about Gwen, especially her past may help us find her killer."

# # # #

The Hardy brothers surfaced and swam to shore. Joe climbed ashore first, pushed up his goggles, and made his way over the rough volcanic rock and onto the sand. He laid the magnetometer on the beach before shrugging off his air tank. He was exhausted and breathing heavily.

A frustrated Frank joined him and tossed his bag of markers and goggles on the sand.

Joe wiped his face with a hand. "We have to look at this from a different angle, Frank. We're not getting anywhere the way we're going."

Frank deposited his air tank on the sand. "Got any ideas?"

Joe thought for a moment. "Yeah, maybe. Maybe we should follow basic investigative procedure and reenact the crime."

A perplexed frown furrowed Frank's brow. He was too tired to think clearly.

"Tell me where the guy was standing when you and Nancy saw him throw the weapon in the ocean."

Frank looked around the beach then walked to a spot and stopped. "Here. I think."

"You think?" Joe scoffed. "You're the guy who always wants to be exact and precise. How can you not know for sure? This is unbelievable." Joe paced the sand a few seconds and then said, "Where the heck were you and Nancy hiding when you saw the guy?"

Frank felt a ripple of irritation. Joe was right. Frank was usually precise and accurate. He prided himself on those traits. Now, he felt he had failed his brother and the investigation.

"Well, where?" Joe demanded.

Frank turned and pointed at the metal staircase. "There behind the stairs and the shrubs."

Joe walked toward the staircase. Frank trailed behind him.

Joe stepped behind the staircase and the shrubs. "Looks like you were well hidden here."

"We were. Here's where we crouched." Frank squatted behind the staircase just as he and Nancy had. "We were here and watched through the railing and branches."

Joe lowered himself next to his brother and peered through the railing. "You guys had a perfect view."

"We did. Hey, how 'bout you go stand in that spot where I said the man was. I'll see if it looks like the right spot from here."

Joe patted his brother's shoulder. "Great idea. Now we're getting somewhere. We'll find the exact spot he tossed that weapon from."

Fifteen minutes later the brothers had a spot marked with two sand filled water bottles and six pieces of driftwood. Frank had been able to determine, with some degree of accuracy, that the man and Joe were approximately the same height – six feet tall.

Joe stood at the spot where the man had stood.

"Okay," Frank said, "now that we're pretty close to the spot I'll get in the water and you toss in the driftwood. I'll place markers in the areas where they sink. Hopefully, this'll give us a better search area for the murder weapon."

The pieces of driftwood had been carefully selected based on weight, size, and shape. Of course, they were no match for an real gun, but the brothers hoped they would give them a more accurate idea of where the weapon sank in the ocean.

Thirty minutes later, both brothers were back in the ocean swimming amid pristine coral and lava formations. A renewed sense of determination fueled their search efforts. Joe's throws had shown them that the weapon probably had not traveled as far as they'd originally surmised.

# # # #

Nancy ended her interview with Kate Mansville and thanked her again for the snack, drink, and information.

"I promise you, Nancy, if I think of anything I'll call you immediately."

"Thank you," Nancy replied on auto-pilot. She was feeling a little woozy from the combined effects of the daiquiri, a late night, and a long day. She longed to collapse in her room. Sadly, she wasn't sure if she'd learned anything useful from Kate Mansville.

"I'll tell the other wives that you'll be contacting them."

"I'd appreciate that."

Kate Mansville headed in one direction and Nancy in another.

It seemed to take forever for Nancy to get to her room. At last, she opened the door. The bed beckoned. Nancy dropped her handbag on the carpet, kicked off her sandals, and collapsed on the bed. Just a few minutes of rest. That's all she needed.

But her mind couldn't rest. It replayed Kate Mansville's words.

"No one knew Gwen very well. I only met her a handful of times. Lance and Gwen had only been married five years. This was the first Airedale fashion show Gwen ever attended. Which was very strange. I'd heard she was – excuse me, had been – in the fashion industry. I believe she was supposed to have been a fashion designer. Wait, I remember now, Lance introduced her at their first Christmas party as a fashion designer. I'm sure of it. I met Gwen at that party and maybe one other time.

"One thing I did notice was Gwen's reliance on Lance. She never strayed too far from his side. I took that to be a young wife determined to keep her rich husband's attention squarely on her. Catty of me, wasn't it?

"I can't remember Gwen ever socializing with the other wives or employees. As I said, none of us in the _wives' club_ knew Gwen very well. Looking back, I'd say she remained well hidden."

 _She remained well hidden_. The words floated in Nancy's mind. _Hidden_. Was it by choice? A need, or a desire, to be hidden? Was she hiding from something … or someone? The questions swirled in Nancy's mind as she drifted off to sleep.

# # # #

The sunlight was fading. The shafts of light penetrating the turquoise water had dimmed. Joe and Frank had less light for their search. The brothers switched on the lights attached to their goggles. Frank dug through a pocket on his BC jacket and withdrew a small flashlight. Suddenly, he saw Joe pointing excitedly. Frank followed the direction of Joe's stabbing motion and spotted what had his younger brother so excited – a green sea turtle.

The dark brown creature glided gracefully through the calm waters. Its long, front flippers cut through the water and propelled it forward. It was about four feet long and had a light, greenish-yellow underbelly. Frank judged the turtle to be an adult.

The brothers swam closer for a better view, but maintained a respectful distance. Green sea turtles were an endangered species, protected by both federal and state laws. These magnificent animals preferred shallow waters near lava rocks and sandy beaches. They liked to crawl ashore and bask in the sun much the same way humans did. However, unlike humans, they sometimes buried themselves in the sand for warmth.

This turtle swam along, in no particular hurry, looking for its favorite food – sea grass – which was plentiful in the shallow waters. The turtle seemed quite comfortable with the brothers' hovering nearby. Perhaps, they were not the first humans it had encountered.

Frank, in one of his many internet searches, had read up on green sea turtles and learned that they could hold their breath for an astonishing five hours. Quite an amazing feat he thought as he followed the dark-brown turtle. Joe followed slowly behind moving the magnetometer over a large brain coral. Next, he swept the machine across the sandy ocean bottom then up and over some swaying sea grass.

A small school of palm-sized yellow fish floated beneath a volcanic ledge. When they spotted the turtle they darted toward it and surrounded it. They began pecking at the turtle's shell. Perhaps, they'd been waiting for just this opportunity – a passing sea turtle. At first, Frank thought the fish were attacking the turtle, but quickly realized they were eating the dark green algae growing on its shell. The bright yellow fish, in essence, were helping the turtle by cleaning its shell.

One species helping another, Frank thought, then caught sight of Joe forty feet away waving and pointing in slow-motion to a clump of sea grass. Below Joe's flippered feet another green sea turtle was nosing around in a mass of swaying grass.

Frank swam closer and spied what had put a big grin on Joe's face.

 _One species helping another_ , Frank thought. A matching grin spread across his face and he gave his brother an ecstatic thumbs up.

# # # #

The insistent buzzing of her phone roused Nancy from her nap. Half asleep, she felt around for her handbag. Finally, she found it and her phone inside.

"Hello," she mumbled.

"Nancy? Did I wake you?"

"Yeah," Nancy answered sheepishly. "Sorry, Frank. I fell asleep. Guess I was more tired than I thought. What's up?"

"You need to call that detective, what was his name? Lau?"

"Yeah, Lau."

"He needs to get over here right now. Joe and I have something for him. We're on our way to turn in the diving gear."

Frank was talking fast and Nancy felt the urgency in his voice. "Let's meet in Joe's and my room in .. say an hour?"

"You're not going to tell me what you found?" Nancy was fully awake now.

"Nope."

"Frank!"

"Sorry, don't want to spoil the surprise." Nancy sensed a smug smile in his voice.

"I'll call you back after I talk to Lau," she said.

"Thanks, gotta go. See you in an hour."

Nancy immediately called Detective Lau and explained that Frank and Joe had found something in the ocean. The detective asked what, but Nancy could not answer his question. She did say that the brothers would never request a police presence if their discovery was not important.

Lau was curious and hopeful. He said he would be there by five pm. That gave Nancy time to freshen up, leave Bess a note, and get to the Hardys' room.

Nancy propped a note on Bess' bed before she left the room. Goose bumps rose on Nancy's arms as she hurried to the elevator. What had Frank and Joe found. Nancy could think of only one thing. Then she remembered that Bess had a surprise, too.

Wow, so many surprises in one evening. Nancy couldn't wait to meet up with Bess later. But first, the Hardys.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

An excited Bess Marvin entered her hotel room at five fifteen.

"Nancy!" she called out, anxious to share her surprise.

Disappointment marred her pretty features when she realized Nancy wasn't there. She saw the note resting on her pillow and snatched it up.

"No way," she muttered under her breath. Could they have found the murder weapon? The note did not said as much. It only implied an amazing discovery.

Bess tossed her purse on the bed and flopped down next to it. "And I thought I had a surprise for them."

This turn of events had Bess feeling slightly dejected. Her surprise would have to wait and Bess wasn't known for her patience. She pulled off her sandals and rubbed her aching feet. In the note, Nancy had said she would call soon. Bess was anxious to hear what the Hardys had discovered, but just as important, she was hungry. Lunch had been a small sandwich quickly eaten while wading through the mountains of paperwork Melinda had given her.

Bess pulled a hairbrush from her purse and combed her hair. She'd never realized the amount of work that went into producing a fashion show. Or the number of phone calls. The number was staggering. Her ears were literally numb.

"Double check the models," Melinda had said and handed Bess a long list of calls to make. "Double check the costumes, the jewelry, and last but certainly not least, double check the stage production. We want everyone to know the show _will_ go on. Be prepared for people asking where they can send condolence cards. Here's the address you can give them. If they ask about Gwen's death, be evasive. Just say that as far as you know the police are still investigating and you have no further information."

"Will people really ask?" Bess couldn't believe people would.

Melinda had nodded sadly. "People can be so callous sometimes. You'll see."

And Bess had indeed seen. She'd gotten the impression that the show now held a sort of macabre fascination for some people. They were coming only to find out the latest news on Gwen's death. Bess was both repulsed and amazed by this reaction. Truth be told, Bess didn't feel Gwen deserved that kind of reaction. Gwen may not have been the friendliest person and may have come off as a bit arrogant, but she certainly didn't deserve to die like that – all alone and terrified. There was no question in Bess' mind that Gwen had to have been terrified at the end. Who wouldn't be?

Bess left her brush on the bed and headed into the bathroom. Fatigue-reddened eyes peered back at her from the mirror. A cold, wet washcloth brought relief.

Yes, Bess thought as she patted her face, Melinda had been right; people could be so heartless.

By the end of the day even Melinda, who Bess thought possessed boundless amounts of energy, had been tired. Drained actually.

Melinda had turned a weary face to Bess and said, "Let's call it a day. We've accomplished the most important things on my list. We'll meet here bright and early tomorrow at .. say nine?"

Bess had pushed herself away from the long dining table where she'd spent a good portion of her day. "I'll be here at nine a.m. sharp, Melinda. I hope Mr. Airedale is … is managing." It was a feeble remark and Bess wished she'd thought of something more constructive to say. Her mind had been too tired to find the proper words. Perhaps, there were no proper words for this situation.

"He's managing as best he can." Melinda was reserved, but her dark eyes reflected her understanding of Bess' remark.

Bess touched up her make-up and was re-styling her hair when Nancy burst into the room. Of course, Bess wanted to hear all about the Hardys' discovery and Nancy wanted to hear all about Bess' surprise. After a brief discussion, the women agreed to wait until they met the guys for dinner. Once everyone was together then information would be shared.

Frank had made reservations for four in one of the nicer restaurants in the hotel.

# # # #

"It was the kiss I tell you," Frank said as he and Joe walked to the restaurant.

The guys were in Polo shirts and nice shorts. Hawaii was known for its laid-back lifestyle. Even in a five-star hotel casual wear was not only welcome, but expected.

Joe, in particular, appreciated this fact as he responded to his brother, "No, it was the turtle. If I hadn't seen the turtle in the sea grass I'd never have searched there."

The brothers were arguing over which thing had brought them luck during their ocean search.

"The kiss," Frank said as the brothers rounded a corner.

"Turtle."

"Kiss."

"Turtle."

Joe heard Frank's sharp intake of breath and glanced at his brother. Frank's jaw was twitching, a sure sign Joe was getting to him. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Joe's mouth.

Frank's eyes narrowed and his voice held a trace of defiance. "Kiss."

"Neither!" Joe laughed.

Frank stopped in mid-stride, his gaze fixed firmly on his brother, and a question in his dark eyes.

"It was my great detective skills," Joe said. "I know you hate to admit it, but it's true."

Frank rolled his eyes, shook his head, and started walking again.

"That's right," Joe said following his brother. "I'm the one who said we should reenact the crime. Remember? That's what led us to figuring out the exact spot –"

"We're here!" Frank said cutting off Joe's monologue and further proving his point. Frank's jaw was twitching again. He'd never admit it, but Joe might actually be right.

They stood at the entrance of the restaurant. A hostess with menus greeted them.

Joe said, "We're meeting two lovely ladies for dinner. They may be here already."

"Are you the Hardys?"

"Yes," the brothers chorused.

"This way, please." The small Asian hostess turned and made her way through the restaurant. The brothers followed, towering over the petite woman.

Frank looked over the sea of tables all topped with crisp white linens. Long stemmed wine glasses and shiny silverware sparkled beneath glittering chandeliers. It seemed weird to be dressed so casually and Frank began to regret his choice of clothing. However, he soon noticed other diners dressed similarly and relaxed.

The hostess led the brothers to an elegant table. Nancy and Bess smiled up at Frank and Joe.

The hostess handed out menus and said, "Your server will be right with you."

Nancy had changed into a sapphire v-neck shirt that complimented her blue eyes. Frank smiled his approval as he sat next to her.

A tray of stuffed mushrooms drew Joe's attention. "Yum. I see someone took the liberty of getting appetizers."

"I insisted," Bess said. "I'm starving."

Joe scooped three mushrooms onto a small plate. "You and me both."

"When it comes to food, I've got your back," Bess told Joe and bumped shoulders with him.

Frank's eyes were drawn to the windows. The tip of a fiery orange sun blazed above the horizon, its nightly descent almost complete.

He leaned toward Nancy and whispered, "Another missed sunset." Regret tinged his voice and his dark brown eyes, like warm pools of chocolate, glinted in the glow of the table's candle.

Beneath the table, Nancy laid a hand on Frank's.

Joe said, "Four more to go." Nancy and Frank stared at him. "Sunsets," he said. "I am aware of more things than some people give me credit for. Why just a while ago Frank and I were debating what helped us find the," he glanced around the restaurant and lowered his voice, "the weapon."

Bess was all ears and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "So, you did find it."

"Yes," Frank's voice was low and held a cautionary tone. "According to the police we're not allowed to discuss it until the ballistic tests are complete."

Nancy quietly added, "They've put a rush on the tests. Hopefully by tomorrow afternoon we'll know if it's _the_ weapon."

Bess beamed. "This is amazing. You guys really are the best."

Frank held up a hand. "Hold the praise until we get the results. That gun could've been down there a long time. There's no guarantee it's the murder weapon."

"However," Joe said, "it didn't look like it'd been in the water very long. No corrosion, so I'm betting it's our weapon."

The waiter appeared and the conversation came to a halt. Orders were placed and the waiter left.

Nancy now told the others about her meeting with Kate Mansville. "I'm not sure I learned anything other than the fact that Gwen didn't socialize much. Kate had the distinct impression that Gwen wanted to be _hidden_. Her exact words were, 'Gwen remained well hidden.'" Nancy turned to her friend. "Bess, what was your impression of Gwen?"

"Gee," Bess sighed, "hard to say. Gwen didn't come to the office very often and when she did she clung to Mr. Airedale."

"Kate mentioned the same thing," Nancy said, "the clinging to Mr. Airedale. I believe Kate said, 'Gwen never strayed too far from Lance's side.'"

Bess nodded. "I'd agree with that. I think a lot of people interpreted the clinginess as jealousy or arrogance. I never saw it that way. Gwen was nice if you made the effort and talked to her. Granted, she didn't go out of her way to make friends or get to know anyone, but she certainly wasn't rude. At least not to me."

"Well," Nancy said glancing at everyone, "one wife down, two more to interview."

"The wives' club," Frank said and helped himself to the last mushroom.

"Oh, so you know about them and want to interview all of them?" Bess smiled at Nancy. "Maybe I can help with that. It involves my surprise."

Joe leaned forward. "Can't wait to hear about it?"

"We're all invited to a luau tomorrow night. Mr. Airedale is giving it to thank everyone involved in the show. This had already been planned well before anyone arrived in Hawaii. Mr. Airedale initially wanted to cancel it, but Melinda talked him out of it. He'd already cancelled the first night's dinner, she reminded him, and told him he couldn't cancel everything in his life. She said he needed to think about tomorrow and the other people involved in the Fashion Show. Some of those people had spent quite a lot of money to get here. At some point, she told Mr. Airedale, he was going to have to start living again which meant leaving his hotel room and meeting people. She reminded him that his employees were counting on him now more than ever. They needed to see that he was okay, even if that wasn't true. He had to put on a brave face for the company. I have to say that I thought that was a very good speech."

"It was," Joe said. He suddenly had a newfound appreciation for Melinda. There might be more to her than met the eye.

Frank shifted in his chair. "Can I assume the wives are invited?"

"And their husbands," Bess said. "The wives all have their own fashion lines. They've used _Airedale's_ Fashion shows and runways for years to tout their lines. Mr. Airedale likes to show his appreciation by doing dinners and other special functions."

Nancy turned to Frank. "If I tackle the wives, meaning interview them, can you tackle the husbands?"

"Sure, no problem." Then he looked at his brother. "And what are you going to tackle?"

"My steak." Joe pointed at the waiter approaching with a large tray and everyone laughed.

During dinner the conversation turned to lighter topics. Bess gave her companions more information about the upcoming luau.

Although it was relatively early in the evening when the foursome finished their meal and charged it to the expense account, they were all tired. A day spent diving in the ocean had drained the Hardy brothers. Fatigue clearly showed on their faces.

Joe leaned back and yawned. "I hate to say it, but I'm ready to call it a night."

"Me, too," Frank said. "Plus, I'd like to check my e-mail. Maybe Dad's sent us some information on our suspects."

Nancy rose and the others followed her example. "I think we're all tired," she said. "I have e-mail to check, too, and I need to phone home. Dad likes me to call every night if possible."

"I want a hot bath." Bess giggled. "Plus, we want to be well rested for the luau tomorrow night."

Everyone was indeed looking forward to the luau. Bess had said there would be Hula dancers and a Samoan fire dance. It sounded like it would be a lot of fun and a nice break from the case.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Glad to see that people are interested in the mystery. That was why I read Nancy Drew stories, the mystery, and how she went about solving them._

 _To Guest reviewer: When I said Frank was walking fast, I meant he was walking fast to the rental shop to return the gear. I see now how that sentence is confusing. Thanks for pointing that out. :) I have corrected the sentence._


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Chapter 10 was posted yesterday. However, for whatever reason, this site did not show this story as having been updated. This site seems to have a problem when I post chapters in less than 24 hours of each other. Sigh. Anyway, wanted people to know that they may have missed Chapter 10 yesterday. That could be good news for some of you. You have two chapters to read. :) Enjoy, and thanks for the reviews!_

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

The sun rose in the morning sky, sending its warmth and light across the ocean and land. Most people on the Big Island woke, tumbled out of bed, and welcomed the new day – Tuesday to be exact – but not all.

In a small efficiency apartment, a dark haired woman with dark flashing eyes fretted. Rosita had called in sick yesterday, not because she was sick, but because she was worried. She was a maid at the _Aloha Hilton_ , the brand new, five-star hotel where that lady had been murdered. And yes, Rosita was pretty sure it was murder. What had Rosita worried was the fact that she might know who the murderer was.

Absentmindedly, she poured a cup of coffee, added cream, and stirred. For the hundredth time, she wondered what the best course of action was. What exactly should she do?

She stopped stirring the coffee and rubbed her temples. Her head throbbed and a headache threatened. For two days she'd asked herself the same question. What should she do? Two days later, she'd arrived at an answer. The problem was, she didn't like the answer.

Mona, her supervisor, would be livid if she knew Rosita had given – yes, _given_ – her pass key to a hotel guest. Looking back on it now, Rosita had to admit it was stupid, not to mention against hotel rules. The rules she'd signed and agreed to uphold when she was hired. She could be – no – would be fired the minute she told Mona what she'd done.

Sure, she'd gotten the key back, but by then it was too late for that poor lady in room ten-eighteen. Rosita and Mona worked the tenth floor at the _Aloha Hilton_. All the rich people stayed on the tenth floor. It had all the fancy suites. It was the best floor on the hotel, the cream of the crop, and Rosita had worked hard to get it.

The toaster popped and Rosita flinched. She was so distracted she'd completely forgotten about breakfast. Of course, she hadn't had much of an appetite since Sunday, the day of the murder.

Maybe _he_ had nothing to do with that lady's murder Rosita thought as she buttered her toast. Maybe she was making more of the situation than it deserved. She carried her coffee and toast to a small table and plopped wearily in a chair. Really, she had no proof of anything. She took a bite of toast. Just suspicions. That's all she had. But the police had said to call them with anything, no matter how trivial. Let them decide what was important or not was what that detective had said. His name was Detective Lau. His card was lying on the kitchen counter. Every time Rosita looked at it, it seemed to scream at her, _call him!_

Rosita thought back to Sunday. The way _he_ looked at me and what _he'd_ said, that's what made me think later that maybe, just maybe, he was involved.

When he'd asked for the pass key he was very polite and apologetic. To her, he'd seemed kind and trust-worthy. The perfect gentleman. Hadn't he said, over and over, how he didn't mean to trouble her? Well, trouble her he had – and plenty! He'd disappeared with that pass key for four hours!

The only reason she'd given him the pass key was because she'd thought he'd locked himself out of his room. She had assumed he would retrieve his key card and returned the pass key to her. He hadn't said any of that though. It was later, after the lady was found dead, that Rosita realized he'd never said what he needed the pass key for.

She'd cleaned the two rooms she had open when he took the key. After an hour and a half of waiting and worrying, she became frantic. What if he never returned the pass key? She couldn't bear to think of how much trouble she would be in.

Finally, she'd been forced to get a replacement pass key from the front desk. She'd told a flimsy lie about leaving her key at home. Luckily, the desk clerk had been busy checking in a large group of businessmen and hadn't asked many questions. He had glared at her and given her a replacement pass key.

"I'll have to write this up," he'd said still glaring at her.

She'd inconvenienced him, added another chore to his already long list of duties. Rosita didn't think he would forget her incompetence. She'd hurried away – back to her cleaning – his angry eyes boring into her back. This transgression would be duly noted on her evaluation and tarnish her perfect record. And all for what? She'd worked so hard!

By the next day, she'd decided to tell Mona the truth, face up to her mistake and accept the consequences. Rosita was on her way to see Mona when _he_ suddenly appeared, standing in the hallway, grinning like the cat who'd eaten the canary.

" _You saved my life_ , _"_ he'd whispered and pressed the pass key, wrapped in a fifty dollar bill, into her hand. _"There's a little something for your trouble."_ He'd smiled, looked contrite, and hurried away.

The fifty dollar bill was lying on the counter next to the detective's card. Rosita couldn't bring herself to use the money. Not until she was sure about _him_.

She rubbed her temples. The headache was building. Today she really did feel sick, but she couldn't afford to use up another sick day. If she took off today it would be 'leave without pay' and Rosita desperately needed the money. She was living paycheck to paycheck.

A miserable, sick feeling grew in her stomach and she pushed her uneaten toast away.

"I need to tell Mona the truth."

It was the right thing to do. Then she would contact the police. They could decide if her information was important.

With her mind made up, Rosita gulped the last of her coffee and put the dishes in the sink. She needed to hurry. She didn't want to be late for work.

# # # #

It was past nine when Nancy rolled out of bed and discovered Bess was already gone. Nancy felt a bit lazy. It wasn't like her to sleep so late. She took a quick shower and attempted to make a cup of coffee from the room supplies.

"Ugh." She cringed in disgust at the nasty brown liquid. It wasn't even hot. She poured the whole mess down the sink.

Time to call Frank.

He picked up on the first buzz. "Morning, beautiful. Ready for breakfast?"

Nancy smiled. Suddenly, she felt very lighthearted. "Yes, my handsome partner, and I'd like a decent cup of coffee."

"You tried the stuff in the room, didn't you?"

"How'd you guess?"

Frank chuckled. "I did the same. Won't make that mistake again."

"It was beyond vile," Nancy said and they both laughed.

"Meet me in the lobby in five minutes?"

"Make it three," Nancy said. "I'm desperate."

"Three it is."

Soon, Nancy and Frank were comfortably seated in the hotel's _Sunrise Café_. The favored café for breakfast.

Nancy lifted a cup of Kona coffee and inhaled the aroma. "Ahh, now that's coffee."

"Real coffee," Frank said and leaned close to her.

His shoulder touched hers and an electrified tingle traveled down Nancy's spine. That wonderful, little tingle reminded her of how much she liked Frank Hardy. It was nice it was to be sitting next to him.

Ah, small pleasures, she thought and took a delicious sip of coffee.

Breakfast orders had been placed. It was time to turn their attention to the case.

Nancy set her coffee on the table. "I've been thinking about the case and what the facts tell us."

"What's that?" Frank knew Nancy would have thought over every little detail of the case. It was something he, himself, had done last night.

"Fact one: the killer came prepared. He had a gun. Fact two: he killed one person and immediately got rid of the gun. That tells me his mission was complete. He came prepared to kill one person – and only one."

"Gwen Airedale." Frank had come to the same conclusion.

"Yes. But more importantly, the killer knew about that stretch of beach and how isolated it was. He must have found it earlier in the day, or days before. He was very thorough. He'd made plans to dispose of the weapon there."

"He definitely knew his way around the surrounding area. He was able to disappear quickly and quietly in the dark without tripping or falling." A crooked grin broke across Frank's face.

Nancy playfully smacked his arm. She knew Frank was just ribbing her about falling when they'd pursued the mysterious man.

She cleared her throat and returned to the case. "Ahem, anyway, it all comes back to Gwen." She sipped her coffee and fingered her napkin. "Any news from your dad?"

"Not much. They're still searching peoples' backgrounds."

Frank pulled a notepad from a pocket of his cargo shorts and flipped it open. "I wrote down what they found out so far." His eyes darted over the page as he read, "Gwen Airedale, formerly Gwen Hughes, bounced from company to company before landing a job at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_ as a fashion designer. She worked at _Frazer and Frazer_ for approximately three years. Lance Airedale spotted her designs at a prestigious fashion show in Chicago and offered her a job working for him at _Airedale Fashions_. She accepted and they were married shortly thereafter. They've been married five years." Frank flipped the note pad shut. "Like I said, not much information."

Nancy's fingers drummed the table. "Hm, we already knew she didn't do much work for _Airedale Fashions_. This show would have been the first one she would have attended since marrying Lance Airedale."

"That begs the question of, why? Why was this the first fashion show? What made her change her mind?"

"That's what we need to find out," Nancy said.

# # # #

Rosita rushed up to Mona ready to admit her mistake and deliver a profuse apology.

Mona was in a hurry and brusquely waved Rosita off. "You're late!" she scolded. "You need to get cracking. The rooms have to be turned out pronto today. There's a big luau scheduled tonight and I'm helping with it. Extra pay." Mona rubbed the tips of her fingers together. Extra money was always welcome in her household of five.

"Mona?" Rosita mumbled. She was starting to lose what little nerve she'd gathered.

Mona pulled fresh towels off her cleaning cart. "Now listen, Rosita. Be prepared, those detectives were here yesterday interviewing everybody again. They missed you cause you were out sick, but they said they'd be back today."

"Oh." Maybe that was good. Maybe Rosita could tell the detectives everything when they interviewed her. She could tell them all about the man and the pass key.

Hopefully, she wouldn't lose her nerve by then. Be strong, she told herself. A lady was killed! Your information could help the police catch the killer. That might save your job. If she helped the police apprehend the killer the hotel would probably let her keep her job.

"Now don't just stand there," Mona chided her. "Get your rooms done! And for heavens' sake, don't spend too much time with the detectives when they show up. You're behind schedule as it is." Mona stormed off carrying a load of towels.

Rosita took a deep breath and pushed her cart to the other end of the hall. You can do it, she told herself as she pushed the cart. You can tell the detectives all of your suspicions. They'll know what to do.

She came to the end of the hall and checked for her pass key. There it was, safely tucked in her pocket. She quietly knocked on the first door. No answer.

She used her pass key to open the door and called out, "Housekeeping."

Still no answer. Cautiously, she stepped into the room, her eyes darting all around. The room was empty. Good, she could start cleaning.

She returned to her cart and gathered her cleaning supplies. Behind her, she heard a door open. She stiffened and turned.

 _He_ stood there staring at her.

She stared back, her blood cold as ice. She gripped the spray bottle of cleanser so tightly she thought the cap might pop off. Calm down, she told herself, you have no proof he's the killer. Besides, he'll see that you're afraid and that would be very bad.

If only she knew. It was too late for Rosita. He'd seen the look, the unmistakable look of fear on her face and knew that she suspected him. Suspected him of .. Well, it didn't matter what she suspected. It only mattered that she had suspicions regarding him.

He was good at the game of deception.

He flashed a well-practiced smile. It had fooled many. "Good morning," he said with charm and grace. His eyes locked onto Rosita's face and studied her reaction.

"G .. good morning," she stammered. The way he stared at her made her uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. She felt as if he could probe her mind and read her thoughts. She turned and hurried into the room to clean it. She laid her supplies on the bathroom counter and breathed deeply. One thought rose in her mind. His room number. She now knew what room he was in. She would give that information to the detectives when she talked to them later.

The detectives were now very important to her. She couldn't wait to talk to them. She only had one question, would they take her information seriously?

# # # #

 _He_ entered the elevator, glad it was empty, glad he was alone with his thoughts. They were not pleasant thoughts. He had a problem, a very big problem. The maid. There was no mistaking the way she'd looked at him, as though she'd seen a ghost. Or worse … a killer.

Fear. That's what he'd seen in her eyes. Unadulterated fear. She suspected he was the killer. All because of the pass key, he reasoned.

She's probably not sure, he figured, but what would stop her from telling the police her suspicions? Nothing. Nothing in the world would stop her once they started asking questions.

Yes, he had a problem and he intended to fix it as soon as possible.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was close to eleven when Joe, dressed in t-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes strolled into the _Sunrise Café_. He spied Nancy and Frank hunched over their notes and walked to their table. They looked up when he sat down.

"You two haven't solved this case yet?" he said and turned over a coffee cup to signal the waitress his need for caffeine.

"Good morning to you, too." Frank glanced at his watch. "Or should I say afternoon?"

Joe flashed one of his famous smiles, the kind that always got him out of trouble when he was younger. "It's almost an hour until noon."

" _Almost_ , being the key word." Frank really didn't mind that Joe had slept in. They'd all needed the rest and Joe's absence had given Frank time alone with Nancy, something he certainly couldn't complain about.

The waitress appeared with a pitcher of coffee and placed it on the table. Joe ordered his usual breakfast of pancakes, eggs, harsh browns, and sausage.

Joe saw Nancy and Frank's arched eyebrows and explained, "It's breakfast and lunch all in one. Saves time that way."

"Right," Nancy said, but did not look totally convinced. "Don't forget we have the luau tonight. You might want to save room for that."

"What time is that again?" Joe added cream and three spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee.

"Five o'clock." Nancy thought the sugar would certainly give Joe a rush if the coffee didn't.

With his coffee properly prepared, Joe leaned back, and sipped. He eyed the notepads and scrabbled notes lying on the table. "You two Brainiacs come up with any new theories about our case?"

"Nancy has," Frank said. "She believes – and I agree with her – that the killer came here prepared to kill Gwen. He brought a gun, used it, and disposed of it as soon as possible. That seems to indicate that Gwen was his one and only target."

Joe sipped his coffee. "Hmm, unless he brought a second gun."

Frank considered the possibility. "I think that's a long shot. If our killer has other murders planned, he would've kept the gun. Why go to the time and trouble of getting a new gun, not to mention, the time and trouble of getting rid of the first one."

Nancy laid a hand on Frank's arm. "Joe has brought up a good alternative to my theory, one we can't dismiss. Gwen may not be the only target. We'll have to wait and see."

"See if there are any more murders? Is that what you mean?" Joe asked.

"Yes," Nancy said.

Joe stretched his legs and crossed them at the ankles. "So, what do you two have planned for today?"

"To finish interviewing the wives and their husbands," Nancy said.

Joe took another sip of coffee. It had cooled considerably due to the generous helping of cream. "How many couples are there?"

"Three." Nancy pushed her notepad closer to Joe. The notepad contained a list of names.

"John and Kate Mansville," Joe read. "They were with Mr. Airedale checking things for the fashion show when his wife was murdered."

"That's correct," Nancy said. "I interviewed Mrs. Mansville yesterday. I can't say that I got any useful information out of her."

Frank lifted the coffee pitcher and refilled his cup. "I've set up a meeting with Mr. Mansville for one o'clock this afternoon."

Nancy pointed at the names on her notepad. "The other two couples are Chase and Barbara Westin and Parker and Paula James. All three wives have their own fashion labels and have been associated with _Airedale Fashions_ for several years. I'm hoping one of them can give us some insight, or background, on Gwen Airedale."

"I wouldn't hold my breath." Joe drained his coffee and reached for the pitcher. "Seems like Gwen didn't get out much. Isn't that what Kate Mansville told you?" He tilted the pitcher over his cup. Nothing came out. "Great," he muttered.

"She did," Nancy replied, "but I'm still hopeful one of the wives knows something about Gwen's past. I'm meeting with both Paula James and Barbara Westin at one today."

Frank looked at his brother. "That leaves you and me to interview the husbands."

To Joe's relief, the waitress appeared with a fresh pitcher of coffee. "Your order will be out in a few minutes," she told him.

After the waitress departed, Frank leaned toward his brother. "So Joe, which husband do you want to interview, Chase Westin or Parker James?"

Joe shook his head as he fortified a second cup of coffee with cream and sugar. "Sorry, can't help you out."

Frank's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What? What are you going to be doing today that's more important than interviewing people?"

Joe stirred his coffee, laid the spoon aside, and lifted his cup. "Figuring out the mystery of the locked door." He took a sip and peered at Nancy and Frank's startled faces. "C'mon guys. How'd the killer get in the room? Don't we want to know?"

A smile played upon Nancy's lips. She nudged Frank in the shoulder and said, "He has a point. We hadn't thought of that, Frank. How did the killer get in Gwen's room? Given how afraid she was I can't imagine she would have been in her hotel room with the door unlocked."

"Yeah, you're right," Frank grudgingly agreed.

Nancy smiled at Joe. Her words, however, were directed at Frank, "I think Joe might be onto something very important."

Frank chuckled softly. "He might be, but don't say it too loud, he'll get a swelled head."

"Too late," Joe assured them with a wide grin. "Listen, I have a theory about that locked door. I just need to do some investigating and interviews of my own in order to prove it."

Nancy and Frank peppered Joe with questions, but he held fast and didn't reveal one word of his theory. Thereafter, the conversation shifted to the luau. The trio wondered who had been invited besides the three couples they were anxious to interview.

Frank and Joe asked Nancy what she thought they should for the event. Nancy's answer was immediate – Hawaiian shirts.

Joe's breakfast arrived and everyone looked upon the bounty. Joe rubbed his hands together and surveyed the food. Where should he begin? Pancakes? Eggs? Sausage?

Nancy gathered up her notepad and pen. "We should leave and let you eat in peace."

Joe speared a sausage. "You guys don't have to leave on my account."

Just as Nancy was about to insist, her phone buzzed. She checked the caller ID. "It's Detective Lau."

Frank and Joe waited quietly while Nancy nodded into her phone.

Finally, she hung up. "Good news, well at least I think it is. Lau has information on the weapon you two recovered. He wants to meet with us, _and_ the hotel manager, at noon in the hotel lobby."

Frank's dark brow creased. "I wonder why Lau wants the hotel manager there?"

"We'll soon find out," Nancy said with a fetching smile.

# # # #

At 12:05, Nancy and the Hardys found themselves in a narrow hallway. They, along with Detective Lau and his partner, Detective Kim, were following the hotel manager, Craig Gaulter. Mr. Gaulter, a short heavy-set man with thin gray hair, was dressed in a light blue suit that did nothing for him. The pale blue against his pale skin made him appear washed out. The fabric was as wrinkled and crumpled as Gaulter's pinched, puffy face.

As the group followed Gaulter's wide backside, Frank wondered how a person could live in one of the sunniest places on earth and look like they never stepped outside. The poor guy looked like he was stressed to the max, too. A murder in one's hotel would do that to a person.

Gaulter was indeed stressed and his nerves were shot. He only wished this murder would be solved soon. The media had hounded him daily asking for any information on the victim or cause of death. Gaulter had tactfully avoided giving a comment. "Talk to the police," was his standard reply.

In Gaulter's opinion, the _Aloha Hilton_ had received enough press coverage regarding this death. The media had labeled it _suspicious_. Certainly, that was not good for business.

Carrying the weight of the last few days on his shoulders, in addition to his own considerable weight, Craig Gaulter was breathing heavily when he stopped in front of a door. He opened it and led everyone into a private conference room. The room was large and well-lit despite being windowless. A long rectangular table with high-backed chairs dominated the center of the room. Photos of the hotel in various stages of development hung on the walls.

Frank stopped short when he saw the guard, Butch Overton, standing at the far end of the table. Frank and Butch eyed each other like two boxers in a ring sizing up their opponent. The corner of Butch's mouth rose in a smirk and Frank thought of the two hundred dollars Butch owed him. After all, he and Joe had found the weapon just like he said they would. He hoped that was why Detective Lau had called this meeting. Maybe Lau was going to tell everyone about the weapon. If so, _great._ That would definitely wipe that condescending smirk off of Butch's face. Nothing would give Frank more pleasure.

Gaulter motioned at the chairs. "Please, have a seat everyone." He moved to the far end of the table and sat near Butch. Butch remained standing, his hands at his sides.

Gaulter pointed a pudgy finger at Butch. "This is Butch Overton. He's head of hotel security. I thought it best to include him in this meeting. I hope you don't mind?" The question was directed at Detective Lau.

"Not at all. A wise decision," Lau said. He was standing behind his chair. "Let me introduce everyone. This is my partner, Detective Kim."

A stocky, twenty-nine year old man sitting in the chair next to Lau's nodded his head. Kim was part Korean and part Hawaiian. He looked like he spent all of his free time in the gym. He'd been partnered with Lau for four years. During that time, Kim had learned a lot about police investigations. He'd also developed a deep respect for his superior.

"This is Miss Drew, a private investigator," Lau said continuing the introductions. "These are her partners, Frank and Joe Hardy. All three are highly qualified and experienced investigators. Detective Kim and I welcome their assistance on this case. Miss Drew and the Hardys have agreed to share information and evidence with us and we've agreed to do the same. And that, folks is what brings us here today. It's through the investigative efforts of Frank and Joe Hardy that the murder weapon was found yesterday."

Frank looked at Butch. He saw the guard's smirk morph into a sneer and grinned.

"This morning," Lau said, "I received a report from the forensic lab. Their findings match the bullet, taken from the body of Mrs. Airedale, with the gun the Hardys pulled out of the ocean yesterday. The silencer on the weapon obviously kept anyone from hearing the shot."

Frank couldn't have been happier. However, what Lau said next, stunned him.

"I had Detective Kim run the gun and bullets through the national database. He got a hit. The lans and grooves on our bullet match the lans grooves on bullets found at a murder scene in Chicago seven years ago."

"What?" Joe gasped.

Detective Kim spoke for the first time, "The forensic experts are rerunning the tests just to be sure, but they don't expect the results to change. I've contacted the Chicago PD and they're pretty excited about this. Their case went cold real quick seven years ago. They've been hoping for a break ever since. The detective I spoke with said they'd never had any real suspects or a motive for the murder."

Nancy quickly processed the implications of this new evidence. "The Airedales are from Chicago," she said.

Frank added, "Gwen Airedale lived and worked in Chicago area for the past eight to ten years. I spoke with Walter last night. He's an investigator at the Hardy Detective Agency and he's been digging into Gwen's past for us. His search turned up some interesting information. So far, we know that Gwen was a fashion designer and her employment history wasn't the most stable. She bounced from company to company before landing a job at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_. According to Walter, Gwen worked for _Frazer_ for close to three years. Five years ago, Lance Airedale happened to spot her designs at a fashion show in Chicago. He offered her a job and she accepted. Shortly after that they were married. I'm not sure if she really ever worked for _Airedale Fashions_ as a fashion designer. Walter's still investigating."

Kim and Lau exchanged glances. Kim leaned over and whispered something to Lau. Lau nodded his approval and Kim turned to Frank. "Our investigation has uncovered the same information and no, Gwen Airedale never designed anything for _Airedale Fashions_ according to our initial reports. Although, by all accounts she was a decent designer. From what our investigator in Chicago says, Lance Airedale met Gwen when she was at the top of her game, at least according to the people in the fashion industry. I wouldn't know. Fashion's not my area of expertise."

Frank grinned at Kim. "Mine either."

Nancy had her notepad and pen ready. She looked at Kim. "What's the name of the murder victim in Chicago?"

"Diana Collins," Lau said before Kim could respond. "She was a very successful designer who was about to go national."

Nancy snapped her fingers. "I thought I recognized the name. If memory serves me, Miss Collins was about to launch her fashion line in either Target or Wal-Mart."

Lau gave Nancy a nod of approval. "Your memory is correct, Miss Drew."

Joe sat at the table frowning, turning the facts over in his mind. "This sounds like a heck of a coincidence. Two fashion designers from Chicago murdered with the same weapon."

"It does," Frank said. He, too, was frowning. "Seven years is a long time between murders. I'm wondering, did Gwen Airedale suddenly become a liability for the murderer?"

Or," Nancy said, "she was _always_ a liability. Perhaps, the killer's been searching for her for the past seven years. Gwen probably knew that, too." She looked up at Lau. "We've conducted a few interviews of our own. From what we've heard, Gwen wasn't fond of socializing. Mr. Airedale himself told us Gwen seemed uneasy soon after they arrived at the hotel. I wonder if Gwen saw someone from her past. Someone she recognized as a threat."

Joe asked Lau, "Are there any other connections between Diana Collins and Gwen Airedale?"

"The only connection I can find is that both women worked for _Airedale Fashions_ at the time of their murders. That fact alone keeps Lance Airedale on the suspect list."

Frank voiced his opinion, "If Mr. Airedale was the killer why'd he wait until now to kill his wife? He could have killed her at any time during the past five years? By waiting, he took huge risks." And it didn't fit with what Frank knew about Gwen or the case.

"In my opinion," Lau said, "the simplest solution is usually the best solution. I believe Airedale wanted the murder to look like a robbery. However, things didn't go according to plan. They never do as we all well know. The way I see it, Airedale entered the room and shot his wife without hesitation. Just as he was getting ready to toss the room and make it look like a robbery, the maid knocked at the door. He panicked and hid in the bedroom. The maid came in, saw Mrs. Airedale was dead, and fled. We know she went straight to the front desk."

"Excuse me, Detective Lau," Nancy said. "But Mr. Airedale was with another couple, the Mansvilles, checking the stage setup for the fashion show when his wife was murdered. He couldn't possibly be in two places at the same time."

Lau folded his hands and his eyes sharpened. He looked at Nancy pointedly. "Kim and I have tried to figure out the exact time when the Mansvilles and Airedale were together. That has been a focal point of our investigation. We have questioned the Mansvilles and Airedale repeatedly. Unfortunately, neither the Mansvilles, or Airedale, have been able to give us exact times for their whereabouts. All they can say is, about this _time_ or about that _time_. None of them can say with any degree of certainty when they left each other. That leaves a lot of time unaccounted for, Miss Drew. By my estimation, Lance Airedale had plenty of time to commit this murder. All he needed was a minute or two to shot his wife and leave the room."

Nancy said nothing. Lau was right and for the first time, Nancy felt a twinge of doubt regarding Lance Airedale and his innocence.

Lau continued his story. "I believe Airedale fled the room right after the maid. He couldn't to be caught in the room. His only concern was to get rid of the gun. Which he did. He tossed it in the ocean the first chance he got. He never suspected someone had seen him or that two industrious private eyes would fish it out of the ocean." Lau smiled at Frank.

Frank had nothing to smile about. He didn't believe Airedale was the killer, but this wasn't the time or place to debate it. Not with the detective in charge of the case.

Lau looked at Mr. Gaulter who had grown considerably paler. Sweat glistened on the heavy man's brow and his eyes widened as he returned Lau's gaze.

"Mr. Gaulter," Lau's voice was calm. "It's my duty to inform you that the killer might still be in your hotel and might strike again."

Gaulter hung his head. "Oh, God." He thought he was going to be sick. This was the worst possible news. "I was afraid you were going to say that." He lifted his head, his pale eyes pleaded for help. "What am I going to do?"

Butch squared his shoulders and stepped forward, ready to take charge. "I'll double hotel security, Mr. Gaulter. Guards will be posted on every floor. We'll maintain a constant presence and surveillance. That should discourage the killer if he's still here."

Gaulter nodded weakly then fixed his eyes on Lau. "What should I tell the hotel guests? I mean … don't they have a right to know there's a killer in the hotel?"

Lau paused and studied the fine grain of the table as he collected his thoughts. Finally, he lifted his head and said, "We don't have any definitive proof the killer is still in the hotel. I've only warned you of the possibility. You're also aware that I consider Lance Airedale a suspect. We don't have any hard evidence against him though. As Frank Hardy has pointed out, not all of the evidence against him stacks up in nice, neat little rows."

Lau drew a breath as did Frank who was happy his opinion had not been dismissed or trivialized.

"Truthfully," Lau said, "Mrs. Airedale's murder could simply have been a botched robbery and the killer is long gone. At this point, I can't be certain of anything. That's why my advice to you, Mr. Gaulter, is to remain calm. Don't alarm your guests. Stick to 'no comment' when speaking with the media. Better yet, send the media to me. I'll handle them." Lau tipped his head at Butch. "Mr. Overton has the right idea. Beef up security while we continue our investigation. I assure you, we're doing everything in our power to solve this crime."

Gaulter seemed somewhat relieved.

Lau rose as did Kim.

Lau addressed those still seated round the table, "Are there any other questions or concerns?"

Nancy, Frank, and Joe exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"In that case," Lau said, "Kim and I will continue our interviews of the hotel staff. A couple of people were absent yesterday and we're hoping they're here today."

"Of course." Gaulter placed his chubby hands on the table and pushed himself up.

Joe sprang to his feet. "Detective Lau, I'd like to tag along on those interviews if you don't mind."

Lau eyed Joe quizzically. "Sure. No problem."

* * *

 _A/N: This chapter was a real bear to write the first time around and a real bear to edit this time! Some chapters are just like that. I'm exhausted! LOL_

 _Thank you all for the reviews. :)_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Nancy and Frank made their way along the narrow hallway and back to the lobby. She and Frank had been the last ones to leave after the meeting with Detective Lau broke up.

"What do you make of this new evidence?" Nancy asked Frank. "The fact there was another murder?"

"Hard to say." Frank was turning over new possibilities and scenarios in his mind. "But I'm willing to bet we're dealing with the same killer for both murders."

"Me too."

They arrived at the lobby and Nancy glanced at her watch. Five minutes to one. She sighed. "We have interviews in a few minutes. I should get going. I don't want to keep anyone waiting."

A smile broke across Frank's face. "Not even for one minute?"

He spun Nancy into his arms, pulled her close, and kissed her. It was wonderful, but short. Over much too fast.

"Why, Frank Hardy, that was quite a surprise." Nancy was blushing and her heart was a flutter. And all because of one simple kiss.

His eyes swept over her face as he tucked a strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. He traced the curve of her chine with the tip of his thumb and whispered, "I know I don't really need to say this … and maybe I shouldn't, … but promise me you'll be careful. My instinct tells me the killer is still here and I don't want anything to happen to you." His dark eyes clouded. He had some regret about his choice of words. "I didn't mean to sound like you can't take care of yourself, Nan. I hope you didn't —"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "It's okay Frank. I know what you meant. And I'm all for equality in a relationship, so you have to make me the same promise. You have to be careful, too."

He smiled and his eyes brightened. "I can live with that. I dutifully promise to be careful."

"Good. And I make the same promise to you. Now, I really must go. I hate being late." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then she was off.

They hurried away. Wide smiles adorned their faces. They cast glances over their shoulders at each other. A wave and a wink made them long to be together again.

Young love. It was never easy to be parted.

# # # #

Frank tapped on the door of room number ten-eleven. It was promptly opened by a tall, slender, man in his late fifties. He had a tan and a head of thick white hair expertly cut and styled. Wire-rimmed glasses rested on a Roman nose. Steel-blue eyes, softened by age, peered at Frank.

"Frank Hardy?"

"Yes."

"John Mansville. Come on in."

Frank admired the diamond-studded Rolex watch on Mansville's wrist. If the watch and the heavy gold chain around his neck were any indication, John Mansville was doing quite well. Aside from those two items Mansville was dressed like every other male tourist in Hawaii – flip-flops, shorts and a short sleeved shirt. A Ralph Lauren polo shirt in this case. Frank was guilty of the same indulgence. He liked Ralph Lauren shirts, too.

"Sorry I'm late," Frank said as he surveyed the suite. It was smaller than Lance Airedale's, but still a huge step-up from the standard hotel room Frank and the others occupied. The left side of the room featured a living area complete with a large flat screen TV. The right side contained a kitchen and dining table.

"Don't be. Gave me time to fix a drink." John Mansville gestured toward the black granite kitchen counter where a glass filled with ice and a dark amber liquid sat. "Care for one?"

"No, thanks. Water would be nice."

"No drinking on the job?"

"Something like that."

Mansville filled a glass with ice and tap water and handed it to Frank.

"Let's sit on the balcony. The view is worth the price of the room. I think it's what we're paying for so we might as well enjoy it."

Frank and John Mansville settled into comfortable cushioned deck chairs on the balcony.

Mansville jerked his chin toward the ocean. "Great view isn't it?"

"Gorgeous," Frank said. He looked down at the tops of palm trees. He saw miniature sunbathers moving along the beach. The shimmering ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. The view was truly gorgeous.

Mansville took a sip of his drink, placed it on a low glass table between the chairs, and leaned back. "So, how can I help you?"

"I'm interested in Gwen Airedale and her background. How long have you and your wife known Lance Airedale?"

"About twenty years. Kate's known Lance longer than I have. She was doing business with him before she and I met. To be honest, I was a little jealous of their relationship when Kate and I first started dating. But after I got to know her better, I realized her relationship with Lance was strictly business. Lance was devoted to his first wife, Emma. They had two small children back then."

"How many times has Mr. Airedale been married?"

"Twice. The first marriage ended some time ago, about the time his kids were graduating from high school. It seems the first Mrs. Airedale found someone new." Mansville picked up his drink. "Surprised all of us."

"How so?"

Mansville sipped his drink. "Lance was a devoted husband. He never strayed as far as I knew. I have no idea why Emma left him. I don't think he ever cheated on her. My wife said, Emma just grew tired of Lance, or the relationship. I don't know which. Maybe it was both." Mansville shrugged, unconcerned about Lance's relationship with his first wife. It was over and done and in the past as far as he was concerned. Almost as an afterthought, he said, "Lance is a good father. He spends a lot of time with his kids."

"Do you think he's capable of murder?"

Mansville's dark brows drew together and the corners of his mouth drooped. "No. I can't see him doing anything like that, especially not to Gwen. He loved her completely. Passionately. Doted on her. Fawned over her."

Frank decided to switch the focus of his questions. "Did you know Diana Collins?"

Mansville appeared startled for a second. Frank thought, maybe, the abrupt change in subject had startled Mansville.

"I knew _of_ her," Mansville said slowly as if choosing his words carefully. "Fashion designer, I believe. She was murdered some years ago. Eight .. ten years ago." He turned on Frank and his tone seemed less friendly. "What's this got to do with Gwen's death?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that and truthfully, I don't have many of the details regarding Ms. Collins or her murder."

"Shouldn't be hard to find details. The case was all over the news in Chicago when it happened. Every newspaper and news show ran stories night and day."

Frank thought he detected a hint of anger in Mansville's voice. Sort of a righteous outrage. Frank was puzzled. Had the change in subject upset Mansville, and if so, why?

Frank decided to return to safer ground. He asked a few more questions about Gwen. However, the rapport was gone. Mansville now seemed reluctant to discuss Gwen or Lance Airedale. After several questions were met with an abrupt, "I don't know," or "I couldn't say," Frank terminated the interview. He thanked John Mansville for his time and left.

Frank let out a disheartened sigh as he walked to the elevators. He paused beside the elevator and wondered if, perhaps, he was misinterpreting Mansville's reactions. After all, Frank knew nothing about the man. Perhaps, Mansville was merely upset that two young women had been murdered. Frank, himself, found the murders disturbing.

He glanced back at Mansville's door and then took out his phone. He dialed the Hardy Detective Agency. Walter answered on the third ring. Frank told him about Diana Collins and asked Walter to add her, and her murder, to his list of things to check out.

With that accomplished, Frank sent a text to Nancy. It was almost two-thirty and he was hungry, maybe if she was finished with her interviews she'd like to join him for a late lunch.

When he finished the text he headed in the direction of the _Pahlua Bar and Grill_. He was almost there when his phone buzzed.

"Any luck?" Nancy asked.

"None. How 'bout you?"

"Nope." Nancy sounded as defeated as Frank did.

In Nancy's mind, her afternoon had been a frivolous pursuit. Was there _anyone_ who knew Gwen? The _real_ Gwen. The woman behind the façade? People had met Gwen, but no one had really _known_ Gwen. On one point though, everyone was unanimous, Gwen was stand-offish.

Paula James, one of the wives Nancy had interviewed, had said that Gwen was cordial and would carry on a conversation, but only if someone else made the first move. And Gwen's conversations never strayed from general pleasantries such as, horrible weather we've having, did you see the latest designs by so-and-so, or Lance is taking me to such and such. Hardly the type of talk that allowed you get to know someone.

Nancy told Frank all of this. Then he shared his impressions of John Mansville.

Frank rubbed a hand over his neck as he paced in front of the elevator. "Want to get something to eat? We can have a more indepth discussion over a late lunch. It's still two hours until the luau starts."

"Oh, sorry. It's going to take me two hours to get ready."

"Two hours?" Frank was dumbfounded.

"I have to buy something to wear," she said as though he should have known. "I saw an aquamarine dress in one of the hotel's clothing shops the other night when we went for our stroll. It'll be perfect for tonight."

"I thought this was supposed to be casual. You told Joe and me to wear Hawaiian shirts."

"It is casual. And you may not be aware of this, but women always take longer to get ready than men. Besides, it's not every night I get to go to a luau with a handsome man on my arm. I want to look my best."

She was teasing him – in a very good way – and he knew it. It was nice to know she was going to extra lengths to look special .. just for him.

She rang off and he stood in the hallway, the heat traveling up his neck. He couldn't wait to see her in that dress. Aquamarine she'd said. Sounded like a lovely color. He pulled at his shirt collar. It suddenly felt tight.

Well, since Nancy was going to so much effort for this luau, he should too. He needed a Hawaiian shirt. Something special.

Yeah, he'd get right on that. After a quick lunch.

# # # #

Joe, Kim, and Lau stood in the lobby. They'd met with the desk manager and Lau held copies of the employee's daily schedules and sign-in logs.

Lau scanned the sheets. "Looks like the three people we need to question are all here today." He looked at Kim. "One of them clocks out in an hour." He told Kim the name and send the young detective on his way.

Joe had stood by silently. Now, he asked, "Do any of the employees work on the tenth floor?"

Lau tilted his head. "Yes. Why?"

Joe explained his theory of the locked room. "So, if one of these employees works on the tenth floor I could help you out by questioning them. I'd be helping myself out, too."

Lau scanned the list of names and considered Joe's request. Finally, he came to a decision. "You can interview Rosita Sanchez. She works the tenth floor. She was there the day of the murder according to the schedule. She was out sick yesterday, but clocked in today."

"Great." Joe turned to leave.

"Hang on," Lau said. He unclipped a sheet of paper from the clipboard in his hand and gave it to Joe. "A list of interview questions. Be thorough."

"Yes, sir." Joe looked the sheet over as he headed to the elevators. All the standard questions were there. When did you start your shift? Did you notice anything unusual or out of the ordinary on the day of the murder? And so on and so forth. Joe had asked these same questions many times in his career. Today, he would add a few questions of his own. Actually, he planned on questioning every maid he could find on the tenth floor, not just Rosita Sanchez.

# # # #

Joe exited the elevator and peered down the hall. No one was in sight. He started walking. Up ahead he saw hallways veering off to the left and right. He figured he would eventually happen upon a maid. Joe noted room numbers as he passed doorways.

A left turn was dead ahead. Joe heard a door open behind him and glanced over his shoulder as he made the left turn. He wasn't watching where he was going and plowed into a massive chest.

Joe stepped back, lifted his head, and stared up at Butch Overton.

Two bushy brows descended over bearlike eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Rosita Sanchez. Detective Lau's orders." Joe held up the interview sheet as proof.

"Rosita," Butch rolled the R, giving it a Spanish accent. "She's a hot little, Latin number." A lustful gleam flared in Butch's eyes betraying his feelings. It quickly faded when his gaze landed on Joe again. The gruff, irritable Butch resurfaced. "Haven't seen her. She may be on her lunch break."

"Sounds like you keep tabs on Ms. Sanchez." One blond eyebrow rose in question.

Butch glared at Joe and settled on a dismissive, "Harumph."

"Is this her usual time for a lunch break?" Joe thought two-twenty in the afternoon was kind of late for lunch.

Butch peered down the hall, checking doors. "Never can tell with her. Her mood, and break-times, change like the wind. I'll keep my eyes open. If I find her, I'll let her know you're looking for her."

"Thanks, I appreciate that."

The men exchanged cell phone numbers and Joe continued his search.

It was four-fifteen when Joe decided to give up for the day. His quest for Rosita had been fruitless. The last time anyone could remember seeing her was around one-thirty. During the course of his search, Joe had met Mona, Rosita's supervisor. Mona was none to thrilled with Rosita lately. She had made that clear, but hadn't given any specific reasons as to why.

Mona was packing up her cart and anxious to be on her way. She told Joe she was helping with the luau tonight. He pressed her to answer a few more questions and reluctantly she agreed. No, she didn't know if Rosita had given her pass key to anyone. No, Rosita had not mentioned losing her pass key. However, Mona said, if Rosita did lose her pass key she could get a replacement from the front desk clerk. The good news was, there would be a log stating the date and time a replacement pass key had been issued.

Joe's eyes lit up. He thanked Mona and she hurried away, grateful she wouldn't be late for the luau. Joe pulled out his cell phone and dialed Lau's number. When Lau answered Joe explained what he'd learned and that he was on his way to the front desk.

"We're already there," Lau told Joe, "the desk clerk just handed me a copy of the daily log for Sunday."

"And?" Joe held his breath. He waited outside the elevator ready to press the down button.

"On Sunday, Ms. Sanchez requested a pass key. She received it at two-thirty and returned it at five-thirty when she clocked out for the day."

Joe's brow creased with concern and he swallowed hard. "No one's seen Rosita since one-thirty today. Has she clocked out?"

Joe waited while Lau asked the desk clerk to check. Finally, Lau came back on the line. "No. As far as the hotel staff knows, Rosita Sanchez is still here, somewhere in the hotel."

"I don't like this," Joe said. "I'd feel better if we knew where Rosita was. I've got this luau tonight, but I don't have to attend, I can cancel and continue the search for Rosita."

"Attend your luau, Mr. Hardy," Lau said. "It's a once in a lifetime experience. I'd feel bad if you missed it. I appreciate your help today. And don't worry, Kim and I will continue the search for Ms. Sanchez. I'm going to call headquarters and request additional officers. I'll keep you informed of our progress."

"Thanks." Joe let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thanks a lot." He hung up and phoned Butch.

"Yes?" the big man's baritone filled the phone.

"Butch, it's Joe Hardy. Just wanted to let you know, I never did find Rosita. You have any luck?"

"No," Butch said slowly. Joe heard the concern in the big man's voice.

"Yeah, well, the police are going to continue the search. They're bringing in extra manpower. To be honest with you, I'm a little worried about her. Seems like she's disappeared. She ever do anything like this before? Leave without telling anyone."

"No," again Butch answered slowly, like he was taking the information in and slowly processing it. "No she hasn't. I'm still looking. I'll call you if I find her."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." Joe hung up and pushed the down button for the elevator.

The police and Butch Overton would continue the search for Rosita Sanchez. That brought Joe some relief. Hopefully, someone would find Rosita before the night was over.

# # # #

 _His_ wife sat at the vanity in their hotel suite and applied make-up. She swept a large brush across her cheeks and surveyed the results. Her mind drifted to her husband. Where was he? Her eyes flitted to the door. What could he be doing? It was after four-thirty and she was getting anxious. The luau was in less than an hour.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. This trip had shown her a side of her husband she'd never seen before. A side she did not like. He was frequently gone on long strolls doing God knew what.

She slammed down the rouge brush. Well, there had been too many late night strolls for her liking. All these strolls made her suspicious. She had to wonder, was he on the prowl or having a fling? The very thought caused her breath to catch in her throat.

He wouldn't be the first husband to play around on his wife. But it was something she couldn't bare. If she found out he was cheating on her, she'd cut him off without one red cent!

The door opened and her head spun round.

"Finally!" she hissed and sprang off the chair. She came at him, angry faced and hands fisted. "Where have you been? The luau starts in an hour! You haven't even showered or shaved. Good God! I hope you don't make us late."

The venom in her voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

She was like a volcano spewing red hot lava. "I've been sitting here waiting and waiting. Wondering and worrying! I'll ask you again, where in God's name have you been?"

He stood there dazed. She'd never spoken to him like this before. Her angry eyes burned into him as she waited for a response. He wanted to lash out at her, to retaliate, but wisely choose silence. His face, a pliable mask, transformed into an expression of hurt and humiliation.

The transformation worked. She softened. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but she bit her lip. She regretted her outburst and wished she could take some of the words back – not all of them, he deserved some of them. She was hurting emotionally.

She watched his hand slide into a pocket of his shorts. Slowly, he withdrew a velvet box.

"Here," he said, irritation and hurt in his voice. "This is why I'm late. I was buying you a gift." She didn't move so, he grabbed her hand and placed the box in it.

She stood there, gaping and in shock. She'd misjudged him, badly, and pangs of regret pinched her heart.

Inwardly, he smiled. He'd played his trump card and it had worked beautifully. "I'd planned on giving you those on our last night here."

She opened the box. A pair of diamond earrings sparkled against the dark velvet.

"I made dinner reservations at the _Waikiki Restaurant_ for our last night. Just the two of us. Alone, romantic, but after this …" he voice trailed off.

They faced each other. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Her fury had dissipated and in its place came remorse. "I .. I'm sorry. My emotions got the better of me. I jumped to conclusions. Can you forgive me?"

His relief was visible and immediate. He engulfed her in his arms. "Of course, dear, of course, I can. I forgive you, my dearest."

All he wanted was her money and he'd come close to losing it tonight. He'd unwittingly piqued her curiosity and roused her suspicions. From here on out he would be careful. They had to be seen as a committed, loving couple. There could be no hint of wrong-doing on his part. When he finally, and literally, kissed her good-bye and she was laid to rest, everyone would say how completely devoted he had been to his dearly departed wife.

She stepped out of his embrace. A relieved smile shone on her face. "I'll wear them tonight." She took an earring out of the box and held it up. She loved how it sparkled in the light. "I love them. Thank you, darling."

He smiled and kissed her. "Glad you like them."

He headed to the bathroom ever so pleased she liked her _good-bye_ gift.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to those who have left a review. I really appreciate the fact that you take time out of your busy day to leave a few words for this story. :)_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thank you guest reviewers and those who login. And yes, Frank looks fantastic in a Ralph Lauren shirt. I bet he looks good out of it, too. ;)_

 _Let's have a little fluff this chapter. :) Don't worry, the mystery is never forgotten ..._

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Nancy and Bess hustled back and forth between the bathroom and bedroom getting ready for the luau. Clothes, make-up, and hair appliances were spread willy-nilly here and there over every available surface. Each woman had staked their claim to a mirror. Nancy got the one in the bathroom. Bess got the one in the bedroom.

As Nancy applied another coat of mascara, her excitement grew. The luau was a welcome reprieve from the case. All work and no play made Johnny a dull boy. Wasn't that the old saying? Well, in this case Nancy didn't have to worry about things being dull, not with the murder of Diana Collins coming to light and the possibility it was connected to Gwen's murder.

Tonight, however, Nancy pushed thoughts of murder out of her mind and concentrated on her appearance. This was a special night and she hoped there would be time for her and Frank to slip away, to find a place where they could be alone. After the luau of course.

Nancy stood in front of the bathroom mirror and adjusted her aquamarine wrap dress. The color complemented her strawberry blonde tresses and rosy cheeks. A small faux clip at the waist held the overlapping sides of the dress together. The dress's hem curved up in a graceful slit on the left side revealing a bit of shapely thigh.

"Not bad," Nancy mused, turning from side to side.

Bess came up beside her and smiled. "Not bad at all. All you need are the flowers I brought. Let me get the … the pua."

Pua was the Hawaiian word for flowers. An hour earlier, Bess had breezed into the room carrying two small boxes of flowers. In keeping with Hawaiian tradition, each lady at the luau would receive flowers for their hair. Since Bess had been assigned 'flower duty' she'd been able to personally select the type of flower and color she and Nancy would receive.

Bess stepped into the bathroom holding two bright white flowers hooked together on a clip. "What do you think of these?"

"They're beautiful." Nancy took the flower clip from Bess and held it her nose. "I love the scent. It's heavenly."

"They're Hibiscus flowers, the state flower of Hawaii. Melinda told me the Hawaiian name is ah-low-ah-low." Bess pronounced the name slowly and carefully. "Melinda says there a tradition regarding the flowers. If you wear the flowers above your left ear, it means you're either married, engaged, or with someone. If you wear the flowers on your right ear, it means you're free."

Bess waited to see which ear Nancy chose.

Nancy combed her hair to the side and swept it up to expose an ear. She slid the flower clip in place just above her left ear. She turned and gave her friend a radiant smile.

Bess returned the smile. "I wonder if Frank knows about Hawaiian flower placements?"

"You can tell him if he doesn't," Nancy suggested and blushed fiercely. Was she assuming too much about her relationship with Frank? She sincerely hoped not. They made a good team. They worked well together. And she felt the sparks, jolts of electricity when they were together. But she wanted more, she wanted to be a committed couple. In her heart, she felt Frank wanted the same.

She stepped back and took one last look in the mirror. "Elegant, but not overly elegant."

"You're stunning," Bess said. "That dress compliments your skin and hair coloring perfectly."

Nancy hugged her friend and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Bess. That's exactly what I needed to hear. What would I do without you?"

"I'm sure you would manage. You're very capable." Bess laughed with a knowing smile. "Here, help me put my flower clip on. Since I'm single it goes on the right ear."

Nancy hesitated. "You'll be with Joe tonight. Doesn't he count as someone?"

"Oh, I love him to pieces. As a friend, mind you. Nothing more. We're _not_ a committed couple."

Bess pushed her short, wavy, blonde hair behind her right ear and Nancy affixed the hot pink plumeria flowers in place. The flowers matched the vibrant pinks in Bess' splashy, tropical print sundress.

"What's the Hawaiian name for your flowers?" Nancy asked.

"Melia. It means quiet ocean in Hawaiian."

Nancy tested the word on her tongue, "May-lee-ah. I love the Hawaiian language. It's so musical and soothing."

"It is. Oh, Nancy, tonight's going to be so much fun. Melinda has planned quite a show. I can't wait to see the Hula dancers." Bess' eyes grew round when she glanced at her watch. "Oh dear, I need to get going. I promised Melinda I'd get to the luau early and help her pass out flowers and leis to the guests as they arrived."

"I can lend a hand," Nancy said. "I'm completely ready.

"In that case, let's go. I'm sure Melinda will appreciate the extra help."

# # # #

Frank finished buttoning his newly purchased shirt. The background was a deep royal blue. A good choice for his dark coloring. A bold, white flower imprint traveled up the right side of the shirt and paired well with his white Docker shorts.

"Joe, you ready?" Frank called in the direction of the bathroom.

Joe stepped out of the bathroom and held out his arms. "So, what do you think?"

Frank stared in mute astonishment at Joe's bright orange Hawaiian shirt. Jumping swordfish and palm trees cut across the center of the shirt.

Frank searched his rather large vocabulary for the best word to describe the shirt. He found himself coming up empty. "Ummm, it's .. it's bright. Orange is definitely your color."

"You think so?" Joe turned and admired himself in the room's mirror.

"Definitely. We need to get a move on, it's almost five-thirty."

Frank shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops. "Joe, you have your PI badge?"

Joe patted a pocket of his shorts. "Right here. Never leave home without it."

"Just double checking."

The men exited the room. Frank took the lead, walking fast. Joe lagged behind.

"What's the hurry, bro?" Joe asked.

Frank spun round. "Nothing. I .. I just want to get to the luau, don't you? There'll be food there. Aren't you hungry?"

Joe shrugged. For once, his appetite was not an issue. "The food and the luau's not going anywhere. We don't have to rush."

Easy for Joe to say, Frank thought. Joe didn't know about the aquamarine dress or Frank's intense desire to see Nancy in it.

"I prefer to be on time," Frank said. "You know how I hate to be late."

"Yeah, Mr. Punctual. That's you." Joe came up beside his brother and smiled. "You wouldn't be in a hurry to see someone, would you? A certain strawberry blonde with deep blue eyes?"

Frank jabbed the down button on the elevator. "I could be."

Joe laid an arm around Frank's neck. "Glad to hear you admit it."

Strangely, for Frank, it felt good admitting it. It felt honest. He had taken a new step. He was being honest about his feelings for Nancy.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Frank smiled as he and Joe stepped inside.

# # # #

The luau was set up on the beach far enough away from the hotel to provide privacy for party goers. The scene would have made a picture, perfect postcard. Tall stately palm trees curved gracefully, their long trunks and leafy fronds forming a frame for the low hung sun and glistening ocean. Dots of light danced on the gray water.

Frank and Joe spotted Bess and Nancy gathered round a small table. The girls were helping Melinda sort boxes of flowers. Melinda wore a red and white sheath dress that fit her like a glove. A sizzling red lei was draped over her shoulders. Her long, black hair was swept up on the right side and a clip of fiery, red flowers curved over her ear.

The women's laughter drifted on the evening breeze. Frank and Joe took a moment to survey the luau. Three long tables were arranged in a U-shape. They were topped with white tablecloths. Crystal glasses, shiny silverware, and name cards marked each guest's place. Candles, filled with beach pebbles, water, and floating flowers, acted as centerpieces. A wooden platform, beneath the tables, provided a level surface. Blazing Tiki torches defined the outer border of the wooden platform. Bartenders and a bar were off to one side.

A beaming Bess came up to the brothers. She wore a pink lei and a big smile. "Aloha, and welcome to the luau. I have a lei for each of you. I have your basic white." She held up a lei made of all white flowers and wagged her eyebrows at Frank. "Or, for the more daring, I have purple." She cocked her head toward Joe.

"White for me," Frank said and reached for the white lei.

"No, no, no," Bess scolded. " _I_ have to put it on you."

"Okay." Frank leaned forward.

Bess draped the lei over his broad shoulders and positioned it so it hung down in the front and the back. "There, that's the proper way to wear a lei."

Frank touched the artificial flowers. He was slightly disappointed they were not real. "I didn't know there was a _proper_ way to wear a lei."

"There is," Bess said, authority ringing in her voice. She turned to Joe and draped the purple lei over his shoulders. "I'm learning a lot about Hawaiian customs and traditions, thanks to Melinda. She wanted the luau to be as authentic as possible."

"I think that's great," Joe said.

"I do, too," Bess said. She turned her attention back to Frank and a coy grin lit up her face. "There's meaning behind everything … even the flowers in a girl's hair."

Frank frowned at her. "Are you trying to tell me something, Bess?"

Joe glanced at the other guests milling around. He noticed that every woman had flowers in her hair. "What's with the flowers in the hair? Some women have them on the right side, some have them on the left side."

Bess laid a hand on her chest and batted her eyelashes at Joe. "My, my, you are observant, Joe Hardy."

Frank had noticed the same thing and sensed there was something Bess wasn't telling him, something he should know. "So, what's it mean?" he asked.

Bess shrugged nonchalantly. She was delighted she'd aroused Frank's curiosity. That had been her goal. "You'll have to ask Nancy. Sorry, I have to scoot. I have more guests to greet and more leis to hand out. Aloha." She waved and hurried back to the flower/lei table.

# # # #

 _He_ took his wife's arm in his as they greeted the other two married couples. Their friends. The wives were part of the _Wives' Club_. Their own private little club. The three couples were as giddy as high school seniors at a prom. None of them could remember a more enjoyable fashion show or a more romantic location. Lance Airedale had outdone himself this year. The couples laughed and joked as they stumbled through the sand. The wives removed their sandals to make walking easier.

Nancy, Melinda, and Bess waved the group over to their table.

"We have leis for all of you," Bess called out.

Nancy held up a flower clip and greeted the group, "Aloha."

Kate Mansville gushed, "Why Nancy! It's nice to see you again."

"And you, too. We have flowers for your hair?" Nancy held up a flower clip for all three wives to see. "It's a Hawaiian tradition. Married women wear the flowers above their left ear."

"They're beautiful," Kate cooed.

"Do we pick the one we want?" Paula James was pawing through the clips on the table.

Nancy gasped. She wanted Paula's paws off the clips before she destroyed the flowers. "Here, let me help you select the perfect color for your outfit."

"Oh, that'd be nice." Paula backed away from the table and Nancy made the selection.

A few minutes later, Nancy had each wife adorned with flowers and leis. Bess had taken care of the husbands. Cheerful _alohas_ were exchanged and the three married couples headed to the bar.

# # # #

 _He_ sipped his drink and watched Nancy Drew. She was still greeting guests and handing out flowers and leis. He silently thanked Kate Mansville for running her big mouth. While the wives' were getting their flower clips, Kate had gone on and on about Nancy. Nancy was a private investigator hired by Lance Airedale to find Gwen's killer. Of course, all the wives knew Nancy. She'd interviewed all three of them today.

And now, _he_ knew her, too.

His wife took him by the arm and lightly kissed his cheek. "I'm so sorry about being angry earlier." She sounded truly sorry. "You do forgive me, don't you?"

"Of course, darling." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "It's all my fault. I should've told you earlier about my plans for a romantic dinner. Then you wouldn't have had any reason to worry."

"Yes, but I've spoiled your wonderful surprise with my petty suspicions."

He saw the sadness in her eyes and favored her with his most enchanting smile. "Let's put it all behind us and enjoy the evening."

She clung to him. "I don't deserve you. You're wonderful."

"Hardly," he said, patting her arm. "Let's find our table and sit down."

They walked slowly, reading the name cards. Finally, they found theirs. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Are you all right?" his wife asked.

"Fine. Sorry, just stubbed my toe on something." It was a lie and in actuality, he was quite happy. Nancy Drew was seated at _his_ table.

Fate was a funny thing, he thought as he pulled out his wife's chair. Tonight, he was the perfect gentleman. The fawning husband. Once his wife was comfortably seated, he eased into the chair beside her. A bartender came by and he ordered another drink. His first drink was gone, finished. He needed another. The evening was just getting started.

# # # #

Frank and Joe were making their second pass around the appetizer table. They had to do something while they waited for Nancy and Bess to finish their hosting duties.

Joe frowned as he loaded his small plate with treats he hadn't sampled the first time around. "Why do they give you such teeny, tiny plates? You can hardly fit anything on these."

"They're appetizers, not a meal," Frank said. "They're only supposed to _whet_ your appetite."

"Well, they've succeeded." Joe popped a spinach wrap in his mouth. After a few chews he swallowed. "When's the main course?"

"Six-thirty, right after the hula dancers."

The brothers munched on appetizers and discussed the case.

Joe explained his theory of the locked room. "I always figured a maid must've lent her pass key to a guest – the killer – that's how he got in the room. Rosita is the only maid who's gotten a replacement pass key in the last two months. Lau checked the hotel logs. Rosita got a replacement key on Sunday an hour before the murder was committed. She returned the key when she clocked out that day. The way I see it, she didn't get the replacement key right away. She waited awhile thinking the guest would come back with her pass key."

"But he didn't," Frank said, "and she was forced to get a replacement."

"Exactly, but he must have returned it eventually. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to return the replacement key."

"And now she's missing and you can't question her."

The deep furrowing of Joe's brow gave him a haunted look. "I'm worried something's happened to her. What if she confronted the killer?"

"I think that's highly unlikely." Frank was concerned about Rosita, too. "It's more likely the killer confronted her. I'll feel a whole lot better when we know where she is."

Joe nodded slowly. He was thinking the same thing. "Lau and Kim are still searching. And Butch. He promised to call me if he finds Rosita."

"Butch?" Frank's good humor instantly turned sour. "You're on a first name basis with the guard? The guy who hates me. The guy who owes me two hundred bucks!"

Joe leaned away from his brother. "He's not that bad."

"What? Not that bad. Don't you remember how he treated us? Like we're children, like we're just playing at being detectives."

Frank's voice had risen. Joe looked at the other guests and then back at his brother. "Calm down, Frank. We don't need to make a scene."

Frank flinched, suddenly, aware of his surroundings. Joe was right, he needed to control his temper. He ran his tongue over his lips, a nervous gesture born of frustration. "You're right. Sorry about that. What did you and Butch talk about?"

Joe licked his fingers and Frank winced. "Don't you have any manners?" He handed Joe a napkin. "Here. So, what did you and Butch talk about?"

"The case. I was looking for the maids who work the tenth floor. Butch happened to be on the tenth floor. I ran into him. Literally. Boom." Joe smacked a fist into an open palm. "Bounced right off him. Anyway, he hadn't seen Rosita. Just between you and me, I think he has a thing for Rosita."

"Joe?"

"Yes."

"Did you ask him about the money?"

"I was kinda busy trying to find Rosita or any other maid that works the tenth floor."

"Yeah, I get that. So, you never mentioned the bet or the money?"

"Nope, never mentioned it." Joe strolled to a trash bin and tossed his empty plate in. "You made the bet, Frank. You can ask him for your money."

"Oh, trust me, I will."

# # # #

Nancy greeted the last guests, draped them with leis, said aloha, and hurried to meet up with Frank.

Bess had already made her escape with Joe. They were off getting drinks.

"It's about time," Frank said taking Nancy's arm and guiding her to their table. "By the way, you look fantastic."

"Thanks, so do you. New shirt?" She laid a hand on his chest and caressed the smooth fabric. A shiver charged down his spine.

"Yeah, bought it today," his voice was low and rough. His gaze dropped from her face to her body. "When you said you were buying a dress . . I ..well, I.."

His gaze found her face again. Her smile mesmerized him and he lost his train of thought. She looked great, not that she didn't always look great, but tonight was different. Maybe it was the dress, the way it showed off her waist and hips. Maybe it was the extra rosy glow in her cheeks. Or maybe, it was the flowers in her hair. They gave her an exotic look.

 _Flowers in her hair._

That sparked a memory.

He nodded at her head. "What's the story behind the flowers in your hair?"

The heat rushed to Nancy's cheeks. "Bess." She was only mildly annoyed with her friend. Hadn't she said Bess could tell Frank if he didn't know?

"She said I had to ask you," Frank said with complete innocence.

Nancy crooked a finger and Frank leaned over. She whispered in his ear.

His face was flush when he straightened up. Her warm breath against his ear had set every nerve ending on fire. "So, that's what it means."

"That's what it means."


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I agree, a good chapter of fluff should never be underestimated. And on that note, a little more fluff and a little more mystery ..._

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

It was six o'clock and the sun was setting. The crowd on the beach was feeling no pain due in large part to the free and plentiful drinks.

Bess and Nancy had made a trip around the appetizer table and now stood with their plates, munching bite sized treats. Frank and Joe were on either side of the women. They all enjoyed the incredible view. Crashing waves soothed their senses and eased away the daily concerns. A salty, humid breeze drifted around them.

While Nancy and Bess ate their appetizers and the guys sipped their drinks, Bess pointed out who was who at the luau.

She held her appetizer plate in one hand and pointed discreetly with the other. "Over there, next to the bar, that's the construction crew and painters and the three new guards."

Nancy and the Hardys took note of the construction crew, three buff Hawaiians, who appeared to be having the time of their lives. They'd hit the appetizer table more times than Joe had. The Hawaiians and guards had buddied up with the painters, perhaps because the painters were three young, attractive women dressed in short skirts and tank tops. The luau's festive mood had acted as an aphrodisiac for this group of young people and their uninhibited laughter filled the air. Slender, tanned shoulders unabashedly brushed against muscular ones. Amorous smiles and the hint of unspoken promises were exchanged. Yes, this group was definitely getting to know one another and enjoying every minute of it.

Off to the other side was an older, sedate group of guests. The stood with backs ramrod straight and heads held high. The appeared every bit as pompous as they were. Holding their long-stemmed glasses just so, they nodded politely and chatted quietly in a dignified manner that smacked of pretension. No bursts of laughter from this group.

Bess said, "That's the set designers, runway consultants, hair and make-up artists, and fabric coordinators."

Frank almost choked on his drink. "Fabric coordinators? What the heck kind of job is that?" His face scrunched and his mouth twisted. That couldn't be an actual job, could it?

"Yes, Frank," Bess said as if correcting a small child. "Fashion shows use fabric coordinators. It's their job to determine what fabrics work best on which model and what shoes, hair accessories, and jewelry will be worn with which fabrics."

"Well, that makes sense .. I guess. I hadn't thought of all that." Frank gave Bess a sideways glance. He would just have to take her word for it.

Inwardly, Bess glowed. It wasn't often someone knew more than Frank Hardy. Of course, this was fashion, her domain, but still, she felt a surge of pride.

Bess continued pointing out people. Frank tuned her out and counted the guests. Thirty-six people in all. Twelve at each dining table.

Bess paused her monologue and took a bite of an appetizer.

Frank jutted his chin at three married couples sitting at one of the dining tables quietly talking and enjoying their drinks.

"That's John Mansville," Frank said, "I interviewed him today." Frank also recalled Mansville's startled reaction when Diana Collins' murder was mentioned. Her very name had sparked an abrupt change in Mansville's attitude.

Frank wondered if Walter had found out anything about Diana Collins or her murder. Frank stifled the impulse to grab his cell phone and call the Hardy Detective Agency. No, Walter would phone if he'd found out anything, especially something important.

Frank's mind came back to the present in time to hear Bess identify the two couples seated on either side of Kate and John Mansville.

"The couple on the left is Parker and Paula James. Paula's fashion line is mainly handbags, scarves, hats, shoes, and gloves. In other words, accessories."

Frank couldn't make out Parker or Paula's features from this distance and the fading sunlight didn't help.

"On the right is Chase and Barbara Westin," Bess said.

The tapping of a microphone got everyone's attention. Conversations stopped and heads turned in the direction of the sound. A Hawaiian woman dressed in a creamy white dress stood behind a podium set up on a small, raised platform. She wore a colorful lei around her neck.

She adjusted the mic, flashed a bright smile, and said, "Aloha!"

The crowd responded with an enthusiastic, "Aloha!"

The construction workers, painters, and guards thrust their drinks in the air to demonstrate their enthusiam.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Malika the Activities Director for the hotel and I'd like to extend a Hawaiian welcome to everyone. Tonight's luau is given by Mr. Lance Airedale, an distinguished and honored guest of the hotel. Mr. Airedale will be joining us shortly. But first, I want to tell you about the wonderful evening we have planned for you. Mr. Airedale will say a few words and then our very own Hilton Hula Dancers and band will dazzle you with a special performance. Audience participation is encouraged! After that you'll be treated to a traditional Hawaiian luau. Our chefs have included classic island dishes and a few American favorites. Our Samoan Fire Dancers will finish the evening off and you don't want to miss them. They're fabulous!"

The construction workers and guards shouted, "Awesome!"

Malika's smile was indulgent. "I'd like to ask everyone to please find their seats so we can begin the evening's festivities. Name cards are on the tables."

Guests obediently headed for tables. As Bess, Nancy, Frank and Joe approached their table the three married couples rose to greet them.

Kate Mansville came forward with an excited smile. Her husband trailed behind her. She took Nancy's arm, patted it, and in a conspiratorial tone said, "Nancy, you simply must introduce me to the handsome man on your arm."

Nancy's cheeks grew hot and a happy, contented smile curled the corners of her lips. "Kate Mansville, this is Frank Hardy. Frank, Kate Mansville."

Frank extended a hand. It was immediately engulfed by Kate's blanket soft hands. "So, nice to meet you. Are you helping Nancy with the investigation? She said there were three of you working on it."

"Yes, I am. My brother, Joe, is also on the case."

Kate patted Frank's hand and released it. "Well, I feel so much better knowing Nancy has two strong, handsome men working with her."

John Mansville stepped forward, his steel-blue eyes twinkling. He adjusted his wire-rim glasses and said, "So, this is Nancy Drew. I've heard all about you." He offered Nancy a hand and she shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Kate can't stop talking about you. You've definitely impressed her and that's not easy to do."

The Westins and Jameses joined the group. Handshakes, greetings, and names were exchanged, but before pleasantries could be shared, Malika tapped the microphone again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll please take your seats, we're ready to begin."

Joe pulled out Bess' chair. As she eased into her seat she caught sight of Melinda and Mr. Airedale making their way to the podium. Malika was waiting for them.

"Thanks, Joe," Bess said.

"My pleasure." Joe lowered himself into the chair next to hers. He leaned over and whispered, "By the way, you look gorgeous tonight. I meant to tell you earlier, just didn't get a chance."

Bess smiled at him. "You certainly make it hard to resist that Hardy charm," she teased.

"Yeah, I got all the charm. Frank got … um, I don't know what Frank got." He laughed and Bess did, too.

"Seriously though," Bess said as her laughter faded, "I think he got Nancy."

Joe followed the tilt of Bess' head and her gaze. Frank and Nancy. They were seated across the table from Bess and Joe. Joe watched as Frank leaned over and whispered something in Nancy's ear. She blushed and a smile bloomed on her face. A smile of affection.

Joe turned to Bess. "It sure looks that way. About time in my opinion."

"Amen. I'll drink to that." Bess lifted her drink.

Joe touched his glass to Bess'. "To Frank and Nancy."

# # # #

Mr. Airedale stood at the podium, Melinda by his side. He appeared thinner. The colorful Hawaiian shirt he wore hung from his shoulders.

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming." He paused and gathered his strength. He could do this. He would do this for Gwen. When he lifted his head, a gleam of hope shone in his eyes. "This evening is my personal thank you to each and every one of you for all the hard work you've put into getting this fashion show ready.

"Some of you are good friends of mine and have been with me for years. I can honestly tell you that your concern and support the last day has meant more to me than you'll ever know. Thank you.

"Others of you are new friends. Some of you are here for this show, and this show only, but please don't doubt your importance. Without dedicated workers like you _Airedale Fashions_ would not be the success it is today. I learned early in my career that the best way to ensure quality products and productions was to keep my employees happy. Unhappy employees make mistakes and when that happens, I have to work harder. Early in my career, I found myself working late into the night trying to correct mistakes. I soon realized what a waste of time that was. Time is precious, folks. Time is the one thing none of us can afford to waste."

Lance Airedale paused to let those words sink in. Those words were especially poignant. "So, in closing, I'd like to thank you again for giving _Airedale Fashions_ , and me, your time and energy. It's greatly appreciated. Each and every one of you is greatly appreciated. Please, enjoy the evening."

The crowd clapped. John Mansville rose and others followed his example. Lance Airedale received a heartfelt standing ovation. He nodded his appreciation and held up a hand to halt the applause. No one stopped clapping. So, Lance took Melinda's arm and they made their way to their table. Lance pulled out Melinda's chair and only after he sat did the applause stop.

"Thank you," Lance Airedale called out to the crowd.

Malika introduced the Hula dancers and directed everyone's attention to an area outlined by Tiki torches and ground lighting. This was the 'stage' for tonight's performances.

Six pretty, Hawaiian women with long dark hair were poised and ready to go. They were barefooted and wore grass skirts and bikini tops. They had leis around their necks, on their wrists and ankles, and on top of their heads. Three young men in cloth skirts and shorts were the band. Two men had ukuleles and the third was set up behind a drum set. Several guests turned their chairs for a better view.

A Hawaiian song and dance soon relaxed everyone. When the dance finished, one dancer stepped forward and introduced herself. "Good evening, I'm Keke. Our next performance is an island favorite called, _Little Brown Gal_. As we dance I'll explain the hand and body movements. Please, watch carefully."

The dancers performed slowly as Keke explained each movement. When the performance ended, Keke told the audience, "Every dance tells a story. This time, I invite you to join the dancers and me as we show you each movement again."

Melinda, who loved to dance, looked around the table. "Ladies, should we give it a try?"

The wives' club members had attended a Hula dance demonstration that morning and were eager to practice what they'd learned. Kate, Paula James, and Barbara Westin were quickly on their feet and following Melinda.

Nancy looked at Bess and arched an eyebrow. Bess smiled and got up. Neither woman wanted to be left out of the fun. They happily joined the group of women forming round the dancers.

Kate was swaying her hips and showing off the moves she'd learned that morning. Nancy admired the older woman's graceful, fluid movements.

"This is how you do it. Isn't it, Paula?" Kate said laughing. "Knowing me, I'm probably doing it all wrong!"

The three female painters, their inhibitions long gone due to a generous amount of alcohol, came sashaying over. "Can we join in?"

A thrilled Kate answered for the group, "By all means. The more the merrier!"

The next twenty minutes proved to be rip-roaring fun, not only for Nancy, Bess, and the women, but for the audience as well. The women made plenty of missteps, especially the painters who were none too steady on their feet. Throughout the dance, there were the inevitable bumps and stumbles among the women. These mishaps provided plenty of good-natured jokes and laughs, not only between the women, but from the audience as well.

Several of the women tried to get their husbands to join them. The painters had felt certain the Hawaiian construction crew would be game, but turned them down flat. Only Joe was brave enough to join the women and only after much coaxing and pleading by Bess.

Joe, always up for a little fun, and not one to take himself too seriously, didn't disappoint. His uncoordinated moves and antics set-off a new wave of laughter among the women and the audience.

By the time the Hula dancers said good night, and the ladies and Joe returned to their seats, everyone was in high spirits and thoroughly enjoying the evening.

A fine sheen of sweat glistened on Nancy's forehead when she slid into place between Frank and Chase Westin.

"That was fun," she said told Frank. She grabbed her paper napkin and dabbed her forehead. "Hula dancing is great exercise." She looked at Joe and wiggled her nose. "Especially the way Joe dances."

Frank grinned. "Yeah, he had us all in stitches."

Joe wiped his forehead with his napkin. "It was fun and I did get a good work out. You should try it sometime Frank." Joe knew full well Frank would never in a million years do such a thing. Frank was far too self-conscious and reserved.

Inwardly, Frank cringed. His brother was right, Frank could never completely let himself go. There were times, like tonight, when Frank envied Joe's ability to do just that – let loose and have fun. He had watched Joe move from lady to lady. He'd made each woman feel special. It hadn't mattered that he was making a fool of himself in the process. Joe was content with the knowledge he was bringing joy and laughter to others. And he'd brought plenty of that, to the women and the audience.

Frank patted Joe on the shoulder. "You're a better man than me, bro. You were great out there tonight."

Joe stared at his brother in stunned amazement. He'd expected a witty comeback, a sarcastic remark, not praise. Sometimes, he couldn't figure Frank out. "Uh, thanks," Joe muttered.

Nancy leaned her head on Frank's shoulder and whispered, "Sunset straight ahead. We almost missed it."

The tip of the sun was rapidly sinking into the ocean. Streaks of purple, pink, and orange filled the sky.

"One night before we leave," Frank whispered, "we're going to sit on the beach and watch the sunset from start to finish."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, that's a promise."

# # # #

During the buffet style dinner Nancy sized up the wives' husbands. She'd interviewed Paula James and Barbara Westin that afternoon and had been curious about their husbands. Were they as outgoing and fun-loving as their wives? Did they possess the same drive and ambition? Did any of the husbands participate in their wife's business?

Chase Westin was seated on Nancy's right. His wife, Barbara, was particularly driven. Like Kate Mansville, Barbara had talked more about her fashion line than about Gwen.

Nancy studied Chase Westin as she ate. She sensed he was doing the same to her. She took a bite of swordfish and sighed as it melted in her mouth.

"How's the fish? I almost got it myself." Chase Westin stared at Nancy. His light brown eyes had an ' _I'm only talking to you_ ' expression that she found disconcerting and a little unnerving.

"Delicious. Very flavorful. I wish I could identify the spices, but sadly, I'm no cook. I can barely boil water."

Chase gave her a polite chuckle and smile. Nancy thought him good looking. He had the build of a male model, lean and athletic.

"How's your entrée?" Nancy asked.

"Excellent." He speared a forkful of sirloin strips. "I've found the food here, at the hotel, to be outstanding. How 'bout you?"

"Yes. The food has been excellent. No complaints."

The conversation stayed on neutral topics and, between bites of food and conversation, Nancy assessed Chase. He was younger than the other two husbands. No gray hair and only a few wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

A roguish smile played upon Chase Westin's mouth. "So, Miss Drew. How's the case going? Any suspects yet?"

Nancy did not like the way he ogled her with heightened intensity. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the case." She tried to sound casual and authoritative.

She couldn't read the expression that flashed across Chase Westin's face, but he never stopped smiling. Was it a smile of indulgence? Nancy wondered if he thought her too young, too inexperienced to handle this case?

Nancy excused herself saying she wanted to refill her plate. She headed to the buffet table scolding herself. She'd initially hoped to work Gwen into the conversation. The desire had been to get Chase's reaction or insights.

What had she been thinking? It didn't seem right to bring up Gwen in this environment, a party. A place where people were having a wonderful time, enjoying good food, drinks, and the company of others.

Grief suddenly hit Nancy, sharp and hard. Gwen should have been here tonight enjoying this evening with her husband. Gwen should have been seated next to Lance Airedale, not Melinda.

"Nancy." It was the short, stocky Paula James on the arm of her husband. "Nancy, we haven't had a chance to talk to you this evening even though we're sitting at the same table. This is my husband, Parker."

Paula and Parker's sudden appearance jolted Nancy back to the present. "Nice to see you again, Paula, and nice to meet you, Mr. James."

"Call me Parker. Paula tells me you're trying to find out more about Gwen's past."

"Yes, I am." Nancy's eyes widened with hope. "Do you know something?"

Parker shrugged. "I haven't a clue what that woman did before she married Lance." Parker saw the dejected expression on Nancy's face. "Sorry, did I get your hopes up?"

"Yes, you did. Forgive me, I'm always in detective mode, looking for … hoping for clues."

"Geez, I'm real sorry about that. I only knew of Gwen through my wife. I can't remember ever talking to her alone." He gave a sad, unconcerned shrug then smiled, more a leer really, and said, "Even detectives need a night off. And what a night it is." He nodded at the full moon and beach. "That's one romantic setting." There was a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

Nancy did not like that gleam or the way his eyes traveled the full length of her body.

Paula ran a hand along her husband's arm. "It is romantic, dear."

Nancy saw the subtle displeasure on Parker James' face. She felt he was not in love with his wife, but he played the part well.

Parker and Paula James were a couple that didn't quite _fit_. They were polar opposites. Parker was extraordinarily handsome and aware of it, so much so that Nancy had the impression he wasn't above using his looks to suit his needs and get what he wanted. His dark brown hair was sprinkled with gray. The gray lent him an air of respectability. His rugged physique indicated he was into fitness.

Poor Paula. She was ten pounds overweight and trying to hide her age beneath a layer of make-up. Nancy wondered what twist of fate had brought these two together.

Paula looked up at her husband and Nancy saw a deep desire to loved and appreciated in Paula's eyes. "I need a little exercise after all that delicious food. Let's take a stroll before the fire dancers start, darling."

Parker's smile was tolerant.

"I'm trying to lose a few pounds, but this hotel food isn't helping," Paula told Nancy. "Coffee and dessert will be served after the fire dancers and I love sweets. I can't resist them, although I'm trying."

Parker's eyes went cold and Nancy saw the start of a sneer. Nancy sensed he was not excited about a moonlit stroll with his wife.

But when he turned to his wife, his face had transformed. He was a loving husband. "Yes, darling. A quick romantic stroll would be nice." He kissed his wife on the cheek and they walked away.

Nancy was left standing by the buffet table lost in her thoughts. Those eyes, she thought and shivered. Deception and hidden agendas had lurked in the depths of Parker James' eyes.

Frank stepped up behind Nancy and she gasped.

"Nan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, it's okay. I was just thinking."

"About them?" Frank jerked his chin in the direction of the Jameses.

"Yes, about them." Nancy moved toward the buffet table. "I was actually doing a little detective work."

Frank reached for a plate. "I like the sound of that."

"I've been trying to get a feel for the husbands tonight. I can't say that I trust either Chase Westin or Parker James. Parker claims he never spoke to Gwen. Chase wanted to know if we had any suspects in the case." Nancy selected fruit and put it on her plate. "My instincts say Parker James and Chase Westin are both phony. John Mansville's the only one I like. He seems sweet."

"Ha!" Frank laughed then lowered his voice. "And I don't trust him."

"Really? Why?" Nancy was taken aback.

"I can't put my finger on exactly what it is, but he rubbed me the wrong way. He got a little too defensive when I mentioned Diana Collins. I think there's something there and I intend to find out what it is."

"Wow." It was Nancy's turn to laugh. "We don't trust anybody. I wonder what that says about us?"

"That we're good detectives." Frank gave her a wink and a grin.

With their plates full, they headed back to their table to enjoy the rest of the luau.

# # # #

Rosita's eyes fluttered open. The blackest night she'd ever seen greeted her. She searched the darkness, looking for shapes, outlines, or specs of light. Nothing. Nothing at all. She closed her eyes, opened them again, and blinked. It made no difference. Open or shut, everything was dark. Not just dark, but a solid field of black.

A terrifying thought pricked the back of her mind. Blind. Was she blind? But how? And when did this happen?

She barely had time to absorb this possibility when new terror struck. Where was she and how did she get here? She struggled to remember. Searched her memory. Try as she might, she couldn't remember a thing.

Panic seized her, squeezed her chest like an iron fist and restricted the flow of air. She gasped and sucked in a mouthful of stale air. Other sensations surfaced. Her head throbbed and her body hurt. She tried to move, but her body wouldn't respond. She commanded her fingers to move, but nothing happened.

 _Move!_ she pleaded. _Move! Just one finger!_

No response. She tried a foot .. an arm, a leg, a toe. All met with the same frightening result. Nothing. Why couldn't she move her body?

 _Help! Help me!_ No sound came from her parched throat. She wanted to cry, she tried, but even tears eluded her.

Heaving, struggling for air, she lay in a crumpled heap on a hard surface. She didn't like it here, wherever here was. It was cold, dark, and scary. She'd fought so hard to wake, to gain consciousness, but in the end it had only brought terror and pain, not the relief she'd sought. Willingly, Rosita slipped back into the welcome calm of unconsciousness.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. Life got a little busy._

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

The luau was officially over. Bess, Nancy, and the Hardys bid a fond good-night to the other couples at their table. Off went the Mansvilles, Westins, and Jameses.

Bess turned to Nancy and Frank. "Joe and I are going to the _Puahlua Bar and Grill._ I hear they have a DJ on Tuesday and Friday nights. You guys want to go dancing with us?"

Frank had been hoping for some quiet time alone with Nancy. Maybe a stroll on the beach. However, when he saw her face light up at the mention of dancing, he didn't want to disappoint.

"Sure, sounds great." His voice lacked enthusiasm. Dancing was on the list of things Frank did not care for or feel comfortable doing. Well, except for slow dancing – that he could handle – and with pleasure. Slow dancing got you up close and personal. Only one problem, you had to wade through a bunch of fast songs before you got a slow one.

Joe pulled a face and looked at his brother. "Dancing sounds _great_ to you? This has to be a first."

"Hey." Frank was slightly miffed at his brother. "You know me and dancing. It's not my strong suit. I mean, I can dance. It's just that I .. I .."

Nancy looped an arm through Frank's. "Don't worry. I'm a good teacher. You're safe in my hands."

Joe held out an arm and Bess took it. "Great. Let's go," Joe said.

The couples walked to the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_ arm in arm.

Frank whispered to Nancy, "I was kinda hoping for some time alone tonight. Just the two of us. Maybe a stroll on the beach later?"

"I think we can work it in." Nancy smiled. She'd been hoping for a private moment alone, too. It was nice to know Frank was thinking the same thing.

Frank directed his next comment at Joe. "Hear anything from Detective Lau or Butch? Are they still searching or if have they given up for the night?"

"They'd call me if they've called off the search. I'm sure of that. And I can say without a doubt that Butch won't stop searching until he finds Rosita."

Frank and Nancy exchanged meaningful glances, but said nothing.

# # # #

The _Bar and Grill_ was every bit as intimidating as Frank imagined it would be. The music was too loud. The people were too loud and the place was packed. Frank thought it might be pushing the fire-code capacity. He pulled at his collar under the lei.

Colored lights swirled around the room, illuminating young and old couples gyrating across the dance floor. Some were graceful, some not so much. Bodies of all shapes and sizes twisted and turned to the pounding beat.

Okay, Frank thought, if these old guys could make the effort, so could he. He escorted Nancy to the dance floor just as another up-tempo song started. The smiling duo of Joe and Bess were already on the floor and moving to the music. And very smoothly too, Frank thought with a pang of jealousy.

Frank need not have worried. He didn't step on Nancy's toes or make a fool of himself. He followed Nancy's lead and mimicked the moves of the dancers around him. Nancy seemed pleased with his efforts.

Several songs later, all fast ones, Frank had worked up a sweat and suggested a break. He needed water. Nancy agreed. They got glasses of water from the bar and threaded their way, hand in hand, through the hot bodies movin' and groovin' on the dance floor. They found an empty table for two near the open doors leading onto the terrace. The music was muted at this distance and the ocean breeze drifted in and cooled their dance-warmed skin.

They sat companionably sipping their water. Frank took off his lei and dropped it on the table. Nancy did the same. Their eyes met. Frank's, intense and dark, said he wanted to take that stroll along the beach and have Nancy all to himself. Nancy's, a midnight blue, shone with matching intensity. She was about to suggest they leave when the DJ started a slow song.

Frank's eyes lit up. He'd been waiting all night for a slow song. "Finally," he whispered and took Nancy by the hand.

Nancy was pleasantly surprised at being lead back to the dance floor. She turned to Frank and her breasts brushed his shirt. She slid her hands up and onto his broad shoulders. She reveled in the hard strength that passed beneath her palms and fingers. A slight tension pulsed in those well-defined muscles, a tension that begged to be massaged away. Nancy fought the urge to do just that.

She had led most of the dances tonight, but Frank was firmly in control now. His arms went round her waist and he pulled her close. The closeness was electrifying. A razor sharp thrill zipped from the top of Nancy's head all the way down to her toes.

Frank's warmth enveloped her like a log fire on a cold winter night. The scent of his aftershave hung in the air and brought to mind their interrupted kiss behind the staircase. That had only been two nights ago yet it seemed a lifetime.

They moved in sync to the music, his hard thighs brushing hers. His hip sliding past hers as they moved to the slow steady rhythm. The heat of arousal spread through Nancy's body as she followed Frank's lead. They were igniting a fire she wasn't sure they could contain and she didn't care. Being in Frank's arms was heaven on earth. She laid her head on his shoulder and his hand came up and caressed her back. His gentle touch relaxed her completely and the soft lines of her body melted into the hard contours of his.

They moved across the dance floor melded together. Frank's hand worked its way down the curve of her back, caressing, massaging. His hand stopped at the swell of her hips.

Nancy and Frank were so comfortable and relaxed it took them a moment to realize the song had ended. Frank straightened but kept an arm around Nancy's waist.

His voice was husky and rough, "I think I'm ready for that walk on the beach."

"Yeah, me too." Nancy's hands slowly slid off Frank's shoulders and down his chest.

Frank and Nancy slipped out the doors leading to the beach and stole through the night. Hand in hand, they ran toward the ocean, a full moon lighting their way.

"Hold up," Nancy yelled, "I can't run in these sandals."

She used Frank's shoulder for support as she leaned over and removed her shoes. They continued their stroll, Nancy's sandals dangling in her free hand, her other hand wrapped in Frank's.

A small dark object moved on the beach. Nancy stopped and pointed. "Did you see that, Frank?"

"It might be a sea turtle." Frank fished a penlight out of his shorts' pocket. "They like to bury themselves in the sand."

He shone the light over the sand and found the animal. It moved. Nancy let out a squeal. It wasn't a sea turtle. It was a crab and it was headed straight for her. Well, not exactly straight because crabs do not move in straight lines. They move sideways. This only compounded Nancy's problem. Which way should she run? The little crab was fast and it waved its big claw around its head like a lasso.

Nancy kept an eye on that big claw as she ran.

Frank kicked sand at the creature hoping to distract it or run if off.

"Hey, where's the fearless Nancy Drew?" he teased as he kicked. "It's just an itty, bitty crab."

"Easy for you to say. He's not after you." Nancy ran in a wide arc around the crab. She made the mistake of zigging when she should've zagged and the crab was hot on her heels again. "Yikes!"

Frank chased the crab and gave the sand a good hard kick. He covered the little fellow in sand. The tactic seemed to work. The crab stopped and shook off the sand. Oh dear, now it was angry. It took a moment to appraise the situation and changed direction. It headed for its tormentor.

Now it was Frank's turn to run. He took off without looking and collided into Nancy. He knocked her to the ground and lost his balance in the collision. He fell on top of Nancy, catching himself in the nick of time. His hands slammed into the sand on either side of her. She was trapped beneath him.

Nancy, still worried about the crab, placed a hand on Frank's shoulder and scanned the beach. "Where is it? Where'd it go?"

Frank looked around and spotted the dark outline of the crab scurrying toward the shore. "I think he's had enough. He's headed for the ocean."

Nancy's head dropped back on the sand. "Thank goodness!"

Frank gazed upon Nancy lying beneath him. Her hair was fanned around her head. She was a vision of loveliness.

He lowered himself onto her and the mood changed.

Nancy felt the strength and hardness of his body along hers. Her breath caught in her throat. The intimacy of lying on the beach with Frank was staggering. His gaze, direct and honest, captivated her and took away her ability to think, almost to breathe.

She saw desire and longing in Frank's dark eyes. There was another emotion there, too. One she wasn't sure she was ready for. That four-letter emotion packed a powerful punch. Love wasn't something Nancy took lightly and she was sure Frank didn't either.

At the moment, she didn't think about that. Frank was on top of her, his body hot and masculine, stirring up sensations she hadn't felt for a long time and that made them all the more pleasurable.

Frank braced himself and brought his lips down on hers. The kiss was sweet and gentle, his lips soft and warm. He shifted position, slid a hand into her long hair splayed on the sand, and deepened the kiss. Nancy ran her fingers through the strands of his hair and felt their silky coolness.

Frank's lips moved against hers. He took his time, learning. His tongue sought entrance and she granted it. Their tongues met, timid at first; touching, tasting, stroking, then became bold and exploded deeply.

Her rubbed her bare feet along his calves. They'd lost their shoes in the tumble, she by tossing hers aside and he by falling. The hem of her dress had ridden dangerously high and the slit exposed a whole length of thigh.

It took Nancy a full two seconds to realize the vibration against her thigh was Frank's cell phone. It took Frank a second longer. He groaned in frustration and rolled off of Nancy. He yanked the phone off his shorts and brought it reluctantly to his ear.

Nancy pushed herself to a sitting position and adjusted her dress as she listened to Frank's side of the conversation.

"They have? Yeah. Okay. Where? Yeah. We'll be right there." He helped Nancy up. "That was Joe. Butch found Rosita. Lau wants our help until the forensic team arrives."

"Sure." It took Nancy a moment to process the information and the abrupt change in mood. It was disorienting going from lying on the beach, wrapped in Frank's arms, to being detectives again.

"My shoes." She looked around in the dark while she brushed sand off her dress and legs.

Frank scooped his penlight off the ground where it had fallen and shone the thin beam over the sand. A few seconds later, he and Nancy were racing across the beach, shoes in hand, Nancy's strawberry-blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders.

When they got to the tenth floor of the hotel they found a grim faced Detective Lau waiting for them.

"I've sent Joe and the young lady that was with him to the lobby to wait for the ambulance and escort the medics here as soon as they arrive. I figure it'll save time." A dark brow rose as he surveyed Frank and Nancy.

Frank sucked in a ragged breath. "We ran all the way. We were taking a stroll on the beach when Joe called." Hopefully, that explained their breathless, disheveled appearance.

Lau nodded and got right to business. "Do you have your PI badges?"

Frank pulled his out of a pocket and clipped it to his shirt. Nancy dug hers out of a slim case attached to the waist clip on her dress. The case, only big enough to hold her badge, slim cell phone, comb, keycard, and lip gloss, had been hidden between the folds of the dress.

"Good. Kim and another officer are guarding that end of the hallway. I'd like both of you to guard this end of the hall." Lau pointed where he wanted Nancy and Frank. "Station yourselves so you can see the stairs and elevators. Check all personnel trying to enter this floor. Only guests or law enforcement personnel are allowed access. If it's a guest, I want one of you to escort them to their room."

Nancy slipped the chain of her PI badge over her head and around her neck. "How's the maid?"

"Barely alive. Good thing Butch Overton found her when he did. He's with her now. I hope she makes it."

# # # #

The medics took Rosita away, strapped to a gurney, and the forensic team stepped in to examine the room. Now, Nancy, Bess and the Hardys learned what had happened.

Butch never gave up his the tenth floor. Throughout the evening he called Rosita's apartment to see if she made it home. As the night wore on with no sign or word from Rosita, Butch got to thinking, he should search the storage rooms again – really search them. And that's when he found her, wedged behind cleaning carts, crumpled on the floor, clinging to life. A pool of congealed blood under her head. Someone had thrown a pile of dirty sheets over her.

Butch had called Joe and Lau the minute he found Rosita.

Butch gave Lau a statement and left for the hospital. It was 12:30am. Detectives Lau and Kim left shortly after Butch. Uniformed police officers were left to guard the tenth floor.

Nancy, Bess, Joe, and Frank stood outside the elevators on the tenth floor.

"I'm beat," Bess said. "This has been a very, very long day. I'm glad they found Rosita and I pray she survives."

"We all do," Nancy said. "I'd like a shower and then it's straight to bed for me." She wanted to wash the sand out of her hair, however, she didn't mind how it got there. The thought caused her to smile.

Joe looked around at everyone and shrugged. "Guess we're all calling it a night."

"I have to check my email," Frank said. "Walter might have sent information on Diana Collins or Gwen."

The elevator doors opened and the group entered.

Nancy pressed the number for her floor. "There has to be a connection between those two women and their murders."

Joe leaned against the wall. "If we can figure out what it is we can probably solve this case."

Nancy mused, "I wonder if they knew each other in high school or college. Maybe they worked together in the past."

"Maybe they did," Frank said. "I'll e-mail Walter tonight and ask him to check and see what high schools and colleges Diana Collins and Gwen went to. I'll also have him double check their employment history. If they crossed paths in the past, Walter will find it."

# # # #

At the hospital, a uniformed police officer relieved Butch. Butch had stood guard outside Rosita's room. Butch was glad Detective Lau saw things the way he did. _Rosita needed protection_. Sooner or later the killer was bound to find out she was alive and then she'd be in real danger.

Butch ran a rough hand down his weary face. He was dog-tired and needed a shower and some sleep. It was after two-thirty in the morning. He'd been awake for close to twenty hours, but at least he knew Rosita was going to make it.

The doctors had determined she'd suffered blunt force trauma to the back of the head. The result was massive brain swelling and a coma. Doctors had performed surgery to relieve the pressure and fluid. Now it was a wait-and-see game. Once the swelling went down, Rosita should come out of the coma.

The lead doctor had given Butch hope. He'd said Rosita should make a complete recovery. It might be a few days or it might be several weeks before she woke up and they could fully assess her brain functions.

Butch took one last look at Rosita resting peacefully. No one saw the tenderness nestled behind his small dark eyes. The big guy had a soft heart, softer than anyone would ever know.

Life support systems surrounded Rosita's bed. Tubes and needles snaked their way into her arms and nose. The faint beep of a monitor seemed to echo in the eerie silence of the gloomy room.

The police officer, sent by Detective Lau, pulled up a chair outside the door and sank into it.

"Take care of her," Butch told the officer.

"I will. I hear she might be able to identify the murderer."

"She might." Butch narrowed his eyes. "Which means _nobody_ , and I mean _nobody_ , gets near her." He bit off each word.

"You can count on me." The officer gave an emphatic nod.

The nod didn't convince Butch. He would've felt better being the one guarding Rosita, but at the moment he was so darn tired he couldn't even think straight. Time to go home, get a shower and some sleep. He'd be back tomorrow. You could count on that.

Rosita slept, the endless sleep of a coma. The rise and fall of her chest was the only sign she lived. As she slept she dreamed. The same terrifying dream over and over again. Somewhere in her subconscious she knew that if she could awaken the dream would leave and take its terror with it. But she didn't have the strength to pull herself out of the deep sleep that immobilized her.

 _A figure approached. He came from behind silently, stealthily. He attacked before she had a chance to spin around. A hard push slammed her into the wall and she fell to the floor. White hot pain shot through her right knee and elbow as she hit the cold, hard, floor. She lay dazed and confused. Protect yourself, she thought panicking. But she had no time to react. A sharp blow exploded on the back of her head accompanied by a sickening crack._

Then everything went black, until the dream started again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Wednesday morning the doors of the hotel lobby slid open and Mr. Gaulter, the heavyset hotel manager, ambled through. He waddled past the lobby's fountain with its water jets of changing colors and up to the front desk clerk where he was told of Rosita's attack. It was the last thing Gaulter wanted to hear on this bright, sunny morning. He stormed into his office, his puffy face turning an unhealthy shade of red. He shut the door, staggered to his polished wooden desk, and plopped in his rolling chair. The chair creaked under his great weight.

Cradling his head in his hands, he let out a low moan. What was happening at his hotel? This was twice in three days an ambulance had come to the _Aloha Hilton_. And not for minor injuries. For God's sakes, two women had been viciously attacked in _his_ hotel. One was dead, the other lay in a coma.

No matter how you cut it, this didn't bode well for business, to say nothing of his blood pressure. The only redeeming feature Gaulter could find was the fact that most guests didn't have a clue about the attacks since the medics had used the service elevators, but that was a small consolation in his mind.

And what were the police and those detectives doing about these attacks? Nothing as far as Gaulter could tell. Nothing at all.

The phone rang and he jumped. Geesh, he was wound tight today.

A few minutes later he sat puzzling over the call. It had been Detective Lau reporting that Rosita was still in ICU and under heavy guard. She needed a guard? That couldn't be good, Gaulter thought as he took a handkerchief from his lapel and wiped his damp forehead. What puzzled him even more were Lau's instructions to spread the word that Rosita was alive and well.

Huh? The police wanted the killer to know he hadn't done a very good job? That he didn't kill Rosita? If that was indeed what he'd intended.

What in heaven's name were the police thinking, gambling with Rosita's life like that? Using her as bait for some deranged psychopath?

Gaulter didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit. He needed to think. What could he do to protect his hotel? He sat bolt upright. Where in blue blazes was Butch? Butch had been in the military, the Marines. He knew how to handle these types of situations – attacks, ambushes, predator against prey.

Oh yeah, Gaulter realized and slumped back in his chair. The desk clerk had said Butch had been at the hospital until two last night and planned on heading back there first thing this morning. Dammit. Butch should be coming here, to the hotel, not to the hospital. This was where Butch was needed. Rosita had a guard posted outside her room. What did the hotel have? A bunch of know-nothing guards that couldn't find their way out of a paper bag. They were completely worthless without a leader.

Gaulter reached for the phone. He had to call Butch. His right-hand man was supposed to be here – on the job – and now.

# # # #

Nancy rubbed her eyes, rolled over, and glanced at the bedside clock. 7:55am. She and Frank had made plans for a morning run if they woke early enough. Nancy deemed 7:55 early enough and tossed back the bedsheets.

Everyone had agreed on meeting at 10:30 for breakfast in the _Sunrise Café_. That gave Nancy plenty of time for a run and a shower before breakfast.

She got out of bed quietly, so as not to disturb Bess, and did a few quick stretches. Stretches were a nice way to loosen up, but her body craved vigorous exercise. At home she usually ran four days a week. She hadn't run once since arriving in Hawaii and her body missed the routine.

She did some toe-touches and then scooped her running clothes off the dresser where she'd left them last night in anticipation of a morning workout. A good brisk run on the beach was just what she needed to get her heart pumping, the blood flowing, and her mind working. If time permitted, she'd hit the weight room, too.

She wriggled out of her pajamas, grabbed her cell phone, and phoned Frank.

# # # #

At 10:30 on the dot, a freshly showered and shaved, Frank arrived at the _Sunrise Café._ He was hungry and invigorated. The run on the beach with Nancy had put him in a good mood. Like Nancy, running was part of his weekly routine. The fact they'd managed to spend half-an-hour in the weight room, made Frank's day that much better. He'd sorely missed his weekly workout sessions and had wisely played it smart by sticking to equipment he knew or had in his home gym. Years ago he'd learned the hard way not to overdo or try something new in hotels. You could strain a muscle, or worse, and working a case was no time to come up lame.

The _Café's_ menu was posted on a golden pedestal outside the entrance so he perused it while he waited for Nancy. He'd worked his way through the breakfast combos when she came up behind him.

Brushing past his shoulder, she asked, "Waiting for someone?"

She'd noticed his choice of casual attire – denim shorts, tennis shoes, and t-shirt. Knowing how meticulous Frank was about everything, even his clothes, she would swear he'd ironed the shorts and t-shirt. Not that there was anything wrong with that. And there certainly wasn't anything wrong with the way his t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and chest.

"Not anymore," he said and his gaze followed the plunge of Nancy's dark green wrap top. Her hair was the way he liked it, long and loose, spilling over her bare shoulders.

Arm in arm they followed the hostess, a short Hawaiian woman with long dark hair that hung to her hips.

Frank and Nancy watched the hostess' hair swish from side to side as she lead them through the café. She weaved around planter topped half-walls that separated booths. Most of the plants were fake. Their main purpose being to prove privacy.

Once they were seated and had menus in hand, Frank asked, "Where's Bess?"

"Fussing with her hair," Nancy said with a hint of a smile. "I told her it looked fine. Didn't matter. She wasn't happy. I offered some suggestions and tried helping. None of which actually helped, I'm sorry to say. Finally, I decided it was best to leave her in peace to work it out alone."

"Been there, done that a few times with Joe. Umm, not about hair, other things. Strangely, he never takes my advice or help either."

Frank and Nancy chuckled.

A waitress appeared with a pitcher of coffee and filled Frank and Nancy's cups. They weren't quite ready to order they told the waitress. They were waiting for friends. The waitress promised to return in a few minutes.

Frank stirred cream and sugar into his coffee. "Walter e-mailed me this morning. Gotta hand it to him, he never ceases to amaze me. He may be old, but he's good. He sent a ton of information on Gwen Airedale and Diana Collins. He must've been up the half the night putting all the data together. It's way too much for one person to read. I was thinking each of us could take a file and go through it. We can compare notes as we read."

"Sounds like an excellent and efficient plan." Nancy blew on her steaming brew then carefully sipped.

Frank frowned as he peered at Nancy over the rim of his cup. "We need to print everything out first."

"The hotel has a computer room. Maybe it has a printer, too," Nancy said.

"Already checked. Plenty of computers. No printer though."

"Hmm, we could ask Mr. Gaulter, the hotel manager, if he'd let us use his office printer. He knows we're working with the police on the case and this does involve the case."

"Maybe he would." Frank nodded. "We'll track him down right after breakfast."

"Speaking of tracking people down, where's Joe? I can't believe he's late for breakfast." Nancy didn't even try to suppress a grin.

"Already had breakfast and is out working the case."

"What?" Nancy's brows shot up.

"Yeah, I know. Wonder of wonders. Joe's headed to the hospital to check on Rosita. After that, he and Detectives Lau and Kim are going to Rosita's apartment to search for evidence."

"Wow, I'm impressed. I hope they find something at her apartment, but what could possibly be there? She was attack here, at the hotel."

"Doesn't hurt to check her apartment. They may get lucky. Rosita might've written a note or kept a diary. Maybe she wrote about the creepy hotel guest that borrowed her pass key." Frank shrugged and sipped his coffee.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed." Nancy put action to words and held up a hand with crossed fingers.

"And here's Bess." Frank stood and pulled out a chair for Bess.

# # # #

Nancy, Frank, and Bess enjoyed a relaxed breakfast. The luau was their main topic of conversation. Bess was happy to hear that everyone had had a good time. She would pass the word on to Melinda and Mr. Airedale. She was sure they'd like to know that guests had enjoyed the event.

The conversation was interrupted when Frank's cell phone buzzed. He took the call and when he ended it, he seemed happy. "It's our lucky day, Nan. The hotel manager wants to see us. We can ask him about using a printer when we meet him."

Nancy and Frank said good-bye to Bess and hurried to meet Mr. Gaulter.

Mr. Gaulter's secretary showed them into his lavish office. Mr. Gaulter sat behind a large, wooden desk. He greeted Nancy and Frank and waved them into chairs.

Mr. Gaulter got right to the reason he had called. "I've asked you here because of yesterday's incident. I'm referring to one of my employees, Rosita Sanchez. I heard she was attacked and is in a coma. Her condition is stable but guarded. This is not the kind of news I like to hear. And in that regard, I have to ask, have you made any progress on the case?"

Nancy and Frank exchanged glances. Nancy nodded to Frank indicating he should share whatever information he deemed necessary to relieve poor Mr. Gaulter's stress. Nancy feared the man might have a heart attack given how flush his face was.

Frank told Mr. Gaulter about the massive information he had just received and the fact he needed a printer to print it all out. "It's a lot of paperwork to go through, but I believe the answer to who killed Mrs. Airedale and who attacked Ms. Sanchez, may be in those papers. We just need to print them out and read them."

At the words 'massive information,' Gaulter's eyes had lit up. Without hesitation, he granted the detectives access to the hotel's executive office and its computers and printers.

"Anything you need, anything at all," Mr. Gaulter said, "tell me and you'll have it. I'll put my secretary at your disposal. From this moment on, you and Miss Drew have complete and total access to anything the hotel has to offer that might help you solve this case."

Gaulter rose and shook hands with Frank and Nancy. They thanked him for his help.

# # # #

Nancy and Frank sat at the glass table in Frank's room. Two stacks of freshly printed papers lay on the table between them.

Nancy reached for one of the stacks. "I'll take the Diana Collins' file."

"That leaves me Gwen Hughes Airedale."

Frank took the Gwen's file and the two detectives settled down to reading. Silence prevailed for a while and only the occasional rustle of papers broke the silence.

It wasn't long before Nancy found something. "Frank."

"Hmm?" He lifted his head.

"Didn't you say Gwen once worked for _Frazer and Frazer Designs_?"

"Yes. Why?"

"So did Diana Collins."

Frank's interest was piqued. "When?"

"From August 1998 to November 2001. When did Gwen work there?"

Frank flipped through his stack of papers and found the page he wanted. He skimmed over the paper until he came to the information he was looking for. "I'd say we found our connection. Gwen worked at _Frazer and Frazer_ from May 2001 to May 2004."

"Pretty big coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

"I would." Frank frowned as he considered this new information. After a thoughtful pause, he asked, "Who else worked there? There's got to be a third person involved in this who's connected to Gwen and Diana."

Nancy brightened. She realized what Frank was thinking. "Whoever _the third person_ is, they're our killer."

"Exactly," Frank said.

"What do we know about our killer?" Nancy said and before Frank could respond, she continued, "We can surmise two things. One, the killer is still at the hotel. And two, he has been here since Sunday."

Frank rubbed his chin. He agreed with Nancy's deductions, but knowing where the killer was didn't bring them any closer to knowing _who_ he was and catching him. Also, the hotel was huge. How were they going to single out the killer?

Frank ran his hands down his face. "The big question is, how are we going to identify the killer? There's literally thousands of guests here. It's like searching for a needle in a haystack. We need to narrow down our list of suspects."

Nancy smiled. "I might have an idea. Let's look at this logically. Both attacks happened on the tenth floor. If our assumption is correct that Rosita lent her pass key to a hotel guest, then in all likelihood the killer's room is on the tenth floor. Rosita wouldn't lend her key to a guest on a different floor. She'd lend it to someone she recognized, someone whose room she'd cleaned."

Frank was impressed. "Brilliant deduction, Miss Drew, and I agreed. The killer has to be a guest on the tenth floor." Frank pushed to his feet. "Didn't Mr. Gaulter say we could have anything we needed to conduct our investigation?"

Nancy nodded. Curiosity flickered in her eyes. "I believe 'complete and total access' were his exact words."

"Then he should be willing to give us a list of all the guests staying on the tenth floor."

Nancy was on her feet now and pointing an index finger. "Actually, we can narrow the list down some more. We only need the names of guests who arrived on Sunday and who are still at the hotel."

"Right again. I'll call Gaulter and see about getting that list." Frank pulled his cell phone from his shorts and called the hotel manager. After a few seconds of conversation, Frank hung up and said, "He'll have the list ready in a few minutes. How 'bout I get the list while you stay here and keep reading."

Nancy stepped forward and kissed Frank on the cheek. "I shall continue the search while you're gone. Hurry back."

Frank kissed Nancy on the lips. "I'll be back as soon as possible. I feel we're onto something."

"Me, too."

# # # #

Gaulter heard the tap on his office door. "Come in," he barked and wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

His secretary entered holding a single sheet of paper. Her not-so-subtle look of disapproval did not escape Gaulter's glare. The fifty-five year old, secretary with pursed lips, handed her boss the requested list of hotel guests.

Gaulter snatched the paper from her hand. "Thanks. Oh, I'm expecting those detectives, you know, Mr. Hardy and Miss Drew. Show them in as soon as they arrive."

"Yes, sir." The woman lifted her chin and pulled the door shut behind her. She'd made up her mind it was better to remain in the dark as to what Gaulter intended to do with that list of hotel guests. Of course, she had her suspicions, but they would remain just that .. suspicions.

Gaulter sank into his chair and eyed the paper. Giving Frank and Nancy a list of hotel guests was a huge breach of privacy, but Gaulter was willing to overlook the breach if it helped catch a killer. He rationalized his decision with the old adage, "desperate times called for desperate measures."

# # # #

Joe pulled on the latex gloves Detective Kim had handed him. He and Kim stood beside Detective Lau outside Rosita Sanchez's first-floor efficiency apartment. Lau had gotten a key from the landlord and now inserted it in the door.

Joe had met up with Lau and Kim after checking on Rosita at the hospital. The young woman was still in a coma, but her vital signs had improved. It hadn't surprised Joe to find Butch at the hospital. The guard's concern for Rosita touched Joe deeply. If anyone were to ask, Joe would have to say the big guy had a soft spot for the dark-haired Rosita.

Lau opened the door and stepped inside. Kim and Joe followed. The three men stood just inside the door. They were in the living room combination kitchen and dining room.

Lau issued orders, "Kim, you take the bedroom and bathroom. Joe and I will search this room and the kitchen."

Kim disappeared into the small bedroom.

"I'll search the living room," Joe offered and Lau nodded consent.

Joe could hear Kim opening drawers in the bedroom. Joe surveyed the living room. Not much to search as there were few furnishings. A worn loveseat was pushed up against one wall. A soft blue blanket was sprawled over the arm. Joe imagined Rosita sitting on the loveseat, blanket wrapped around her, watching TV.

His search of the loveseat and cushions revealed nothing. He turned to the coffee table where three envelopes lay open. He picked them up and looked through them. Nothing of interest, all bills. Across from the loveseat was a small TV on a cabinet stand. Joe searched inside the cabinet. Nothing of interest here either, just some DVDs.

Joe spied two framed photos on an end table. Joe picked one up. A smiling Rosita sat with an arm affectionately wrapped around an older woman. Joe guessed the older woman to be Rosita's mother. The other photo showed Rosita with the same woman and two younger women. Sisters? Joe saw a family resemblance in the women's high cheek bones and large, dark eyes. Joe returned the photo to the end table and wondered if Rosita's next of kin had been notified of her attack.

"What do you make of this?" Lau asked from the kitchen. He was pointing at something on the counter.

Joe joined Lau and saw what the police detective found interesting.

"It's your card," Joe said.

"Does the fact it's here on the kitchen counter means something? Did Ms. Sanchez plan on calling me? If so, that would confirm my suspicion that she knew something about the killer."

Joe peered at the card and his dark blond brows knotted. "Umm, what about the fifty dollar bill lying next to it?"

"Huh?"

"Why would she leave a fifty dollar bill on the counter? This isn't the most secure apartment. She's on the first floor with a flimsy lock on the door. Anyone could easily break in. Most people, especially people living alone, usually keep their money on them, not laying out in the open on a kitchen counter. And," Joe jerked a thumb at the window over the sink, "anyone walking by this window could peek in and see the money."

Joe bent for a closer look. He placed his gloved hands on the counter. "It strikes me as odd that it's right next to your card. I wonder if that's significant. It's almost as if she meant for them to be together." Joe frowned and shook his head. "That probably sounds crazy and I'm probably jumping to wild conclusions, but that's the way it looks to me."

"There could be a hundred reasons the two items are together and none of the reasons probably have a thing to do with our investigation," Lau said, but he was frowning, too. "I like to consider all possibilities. In this case, Ms. Sanchez might simply have planned to go grocery shopping after work and left the money out and ready. My card's here as a reminder to call me if she remembers something important."

"If she was going shopping after work wouldn't she have taken the money with her?" Joe countered. "That would save her time. Most people go shopping straight from work. They don't come home first and then go back out. At least, that's the way I do it."

Lau lifted his chin. "Or she could've had plans to meet friends for dinner and that's what the money was for."

Joe shrugged. "Could be. But no matter how I look at it, the money laying out in the open strikes me as odd."

"Me, too." Lau withdrew a small zip-lock baggie from his jacket pocket and shook it open. "So, until Ms. Sanchez wakes up and can tell us why she left the money on the counter, it and my card will be in police custody." With gloved hands, he picked up the card and money, and dropped them in a Ziploc baggie. He zipped the baggie and with a black marker, wrote the date on the bag.

# # # #

Frank returned with the list of hotel guests. He was on his cell phone when he entered the room. He handed the list to Nancy and ended his call.

"That was Walter. He contacted _Frazer and Frazer_ this morning. He's sending us more information and photos of Diana Collins."

"Great." Nancy laid the list on the glass table and studied it.

Frank went to the room safe and retrieved his computer.

"Well, well, well," Nancy said. "We know most of the suspects. Lance Airedale of course, the Mansvilles, the Jameses, the Westins, and Melinda Smith."

"Joe's been suspicious of her from day one," Frank said. He hooked up his laptop and waited for the internet connection.

"I know." Nancy's brow wrinkled and her lips twisted. "Who are Andre Cullen, Louis Romo, and Jules Greggory?"

"Don't know. We could ask Bess. If they're involved with the fashion show she probably knows them. She was pointing everybody out at the luau last night."

"I'll give her a call."

A few minutes later, Nancy relayed the information she'd gotten from Bess. "One's a runway consultant. The other two are fabric coordinators."

Frank sat at the table in front of his computer and groaned. He still couldn't believe fabric coordinator was a real job.

Disdain laced his voice. "Now, I remember. They were the stuck-up bunch that kept to themselves. Too good to mingle with the masses. Can't imagine any of them committing murder. They wouldn't want to get their hands dirty."

"Are you suggesting we concentrate on the wives, their husbands and Melinda Smith?"

"At least for now. All the husbands seem a little shady to me."

"You know, Frank," Nancy sounded very practical, "we really don't know anything about any of these people. Only what they tell us and that could be a pack of lies."

"It probably _is_ a pack of lies. I could have Walter do background checks on all of them." Frank sank back in his chair. He looked thoroughly defeated. "We're talking seven people. That many background checks will take a long time to complete. We don't have that kind of time. The fashion show is in two days and my instincts tell me that when the show's over, the killer will split. If he hasn't already."

Nancy rested an elbow on the table. "Don't start doubting yourself or our theories. The killer is still here. Remember Rosita? She's a loose end that needs to be tied up. The killer's not leaving until she's taken care of."

Frank blew out a breath. "You're right. Still, time's running out. We need to narrow down the list of suspects."

They sat in silence. Both thinking. Nancy tapping her chin. Frank frowning.

Nancy broke the silence. "We need to tell Detective Lau about Gwen and Diana working at _Frazer and Frazer_ during the same time period. Maybe we could persuade the police to handle the background checks. They have the manpower and could complete the checks in a day or so."

"And how long will we have to wait for them to share the information with us?"

Nancy lifted a shoulder and shook her head.

Frank rubbed a hand over his chin. "We will contact Lau and give him this information. I have no problem with that. My problem is, I don't think the police could do the background checks any faster than Walter and the Hardy Detective Agency. Background checks are one of the things the agency's good at, really good at. We pride ourselves on that. We'll stick with having the Hardy Agency do the checks for us. The police will do their own background checks, I'm sure. With Walter working on this, I know he'll call me the minute he finds anything."

Frank stood and paced the room. He ran a hand through his hair as he mulled over thoughts and ideas. "I want another way .. There has to be a way .."

Nancy studied the list of hotel guests as Frank paced and mumbled. Best to let him think in peace and quiet, she figured.

Suddenly, Frank snapped his fingers. "What we need is a ruse. A ruse to lure the killer out into the open."

Nancy wasn't sure she liked the idea of a ruse and she hadn't even heard what it was yet. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

Frank placed his hands on the table and smiled. "Nan, you and I are going fishing." His dark brows bounced up and down mischievously.

Nancy folded her arms and glared at Frank. She did not look amused. Fishing indeed!

Frank spent the next twenty minutes laying out his plan. When he finished Nancy wasn't sure she liked the plan any better now that she'd heard it. She grudgingly admitted it would be faster than waiting for background checks. The plan offered the best shot at getting the killer to unwittingly reveal his identity. However, the plan could very well backfire and send the killer after them.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Glad y'all liked the beach scene. That was fun to write .. all those years ago. I'm a hopeless romantic. :)_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Nancy sat in the _Sunrise Café_ grumbling under her breath. She'd gone along with Frank's plan, but she wasn't completely on board with his 'fishing expedition' as she called it. Frank was taking the _direct approach_ and was off searching for one of their suspects. Nancy had chosen Frank's _let them come to you_ approach. He'd been adamant it would work.

Nancy had found him quite sexy when he'd smiled at her, a roguish smile that she hadn't seen before, and said, "Just wait and see, Nan. You won't have to do a thing. They'll walk right up to you and ask about the case. It's a sure bet. Never fails."

Well, ha! She'd been sitting here for over thirty minutes and not one suspect had approached her. She was near the café's entrance, right next to the large opening that overlooked the wide corridor lined with hotel shops. Anyone walking by could see her, it wasn't like she was hiding. Far from it.

Nancy let out a heavy sigh. All this waiting. She hated waiting. And what did she have to show for it? A cold cup of coffee and a stale muffin.

"So much for fishing," she grumbled as her brow creased in frustration.

Frank's face, with that roguish smile, came to mind. That smile, coupled with his brown eyes glowing like hot coals, had been very appealing. It had induced her to agree to his plan.

Nancy stared into space, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. Never in a million years would she have thought of Frank as wicked or devilish. Yet those were synonyms for roguish. Hmm, this was a new side of Frank. One she was eager to explore. When time permitted.

Oh dear, her mind had wandered far from the case although Diana Collins' file lay on the table in front of her.

Wait! What was that? Nancy came back to the present in time to spot the muscular Parker James strolling along the corridor. He appeared nervous – no, make that cautious. His blue eyes darted all over the place.

Nancy moved her chair close to the fake plant beside her table, hid behind it, and peered over the smooth edge of a long, drooping leaf.

There Parker was, his back to her, looking in the window of a souvenir shop. He was biding his time, trying to appear aloof. However, he kept glancing over his shoulder and Nancy got the distinct impression he was waiting for someone.

A quick check of his watch and another glance to the left. He checked his phone and frowned. Hoping for a message? Another glance left and suddenly a smile. Oh, what a charming smile, too. It could set a heart fluttering. Parker drew himself up and stood straighter. He was sure of himself now. _She_ had come.

Nancy's eyes widened and her mouth formed an 'O' because _she_ was not his wife. No, this was a pretty, young brunette with a curvy body and shapely, exercise-hardened, legs. And _she_ looked as delighted to see Parker as he did to see her.

Nancy sank into her chair and watched as the couple chatted for a few minutes. Could the brunette's smile get any brighter or wider?

She was really into him, Nancy thought and shook her head in disgust. Did Parker's wife know what he was up to?

Nancy moved the leaf aside in time to see Parker squeeze the young woman's hand and point to the right. The woman nodded and off they went to parts unknown.

As the couple strolled away, Nancy pondered the very real possibility that Parker James was cheating on his wife. This was merely an opinion, Nancy reminded herself, _not_ a fact. She could not afford to jump to conclusions, especially in a murder investigation.

Nevertheless, she wrote down her observation and noted the time. 3:40pm.

"Nancy Drew! See Barbara, I told you it was Nancy."

Nancy's head snapped up and she found herself staring into the smiling faces of Paula James and Barbara Westin. Nancy returned the smile and invited them to join her. Secretly, Nancy thanked the heavens. How fortuitous of Paula James to show up. Perhaps with the proper questions, Nancy get could some answers about Parker's activities today and if they included a young brunette.

Paula and Barbare, saddled with purchases, accepted Nancy's invitation. They deposited their shopping bags on, and around, the empty fourth chair.

Nancy mentally chalked up one point for Frank. Two of their suspects had just walked right up to her.

Paula heaved her ample frame into the chair across from Nancy and let out a fatigued sigh. A waitress appeared and all three women ordered mango iced teas. Nancy was happy to ditch the cold coffee and stale muffin.

Eyeing the pile of shopping bags, Nancy asked cheerfully, "So, what have you ladies been up to today?"

Barbara Westin removed a small compact from her purse and viewed her hair and make-up. "We had a wonderful time checking out all the stores. I wish Kate could've joined us, but she was too busy going over last minute details for the fashion show with your friend Bess. I say it's her loss." She smiled at her reflection and shut the compact. "I found a lovely dress for Friday's show and Paula found a beautiful strand of natural pearls. Paula show them to Nancy. They're stunning."

The next few minutes were spent discussing the merits of one store versus another and what items the women had bought for the fast approaching fashion show. It appeared that something 'new' was called for when attending a show. The iced teas arrived and the women quietly enjoyed their refreshments.

It was Paula who inclined her head toward the stack of papers and notepad on the table and asked, "Are you working on the case, Nancy?"

Nancy had flipped down the cover of the notepad when the women arrived. Inwardly, she groaned. Chalk up another point for Frank. One of the suspects had just asked about the case. Why not go with it? This was the perfect opportunity to find out more about Parker James, too.

"Yes, I am working on the case." Nancy rested an elbow on the table and gave the women a look that said _this is just between the three of us_. The women, eager to hear about the case, leaned forward. "Maybe you two can help me out."

"Oh, of course." Excitement shone in Paula small brown eyes.

"Yes, we'd love to help," Barbara added.

Nancy kept her voice low, "I don't mean to alarm either of you, but the killer is still on the loose and he's still in the hotel."

Paula and Barbara traded worried glances.

"I don't like the sound of that," Paula said her brow knotting together.

"Neither do I," Barbara said. "Please tell us you're close to catching this maniac, Nancy. And how can you be sure the killer's still here?"

"We are very close to catching him – or her." Nancy then told Barbara and Paula about the brutal attack on the maid. "You see, the maid knows something about the killer. Unfortunately, we have to wait until she comes out of her coma to find out what it is."

Barbara patted Nancy's hand. "You said that maybe we could help. How? I certainly didn't know the maid."

Nancy had her story ready. "Everything revolves around Diana Collins. We've discovered that she and Gwen Airedale worked at _Frazer and Frazer_ during the same timeframe. Later, both women got jobs at _Airedale Fashions_ , though they did not work there at the same time. The unnerving part of the story is that both women were murdered shortly after they came to work for _Airedale Fashions_. I find that a strange coincidence and not in a good way. That's why I'd like to hear anything either of you can tell me about Diana Collins."

The next fifteen minutes proved fruitful. Barbara and Paula had not known Diana Collins very well. She'd worked less than six months at _Airedale Fashions_ before her untimely death.

Paula recalled that Diana had designed jewelry. "Diana started just before the big Christmas fashion show. She created some beautiful pieces for _Airedale's_ Christmas collection."

"That's right," Barbara said, "and she was creating pieces for the upcoming spring collection, too. But … well, she was murdered before she finished designing those pieces."

Paula shook her head sadly. "Killed in her apartment, I heard. Very tragic."

Nancy read from her notes. "She was killed early April 2002."

Barbara nodded. "Yes, that sounds right. The spring show is always at the end of April. I think Diana's completed pieces were shown and I can tell you, she had promise. She was a very talented young woman. She would've gone far in the fashion industry."

The women talked a few more minutes as they finished their tea. No new information regarding Diana Collins came to light. Paula and Barbara got ready to leave. They collected their bags while Nancy gathered her notepad and the stack of papers.

Nancy hadn't worked Parker into the conversation yet. It was now or never. As casually as possible, Nancy said, "So, while you two have enjoyed an afternoon of shopping, what have your husbands been up to?"

Barbara gave a soft disparaging chuckle. "Let's see. What time is it?" She made an elaborate show of checking her expensive wristwatch. "Mmmm, almost four-thirty, well I don't know what he did earlier, but my husband should be cozying up to a bar right about now."

Nancy was speechless.

Paula quickly said, "My husband's an exercise nut. Weights, running, tennis. You name it, he does it. Parker's probably out doing something physical. I should follow his example, but I like food, too much." She giggled softly.

Nancy willed her face to remain impassive. Oh, Parker was probably doing something very physical right now.

Barbara gently took her friend's arm. "Time to go, Paula. I want to sort through my purchases, relax a little, and take a bath before dinner." She turned to Nancy. "It was nice talking to you, Nancy. Good luck with the case."

Barbara propelled Paula toward the exit. Nancy waited until the women were out of sight and then sat down at the table. She took out her phone and texted Frank.

 _I caught three fish. How many did you catch?_ She added her observation of Parker James meeting a young woman.

Nancy smiled as she gathered up her items and headed to her room. She needed some quiet time alone to really dig into Diana Collins' file and the best place to do that was in the solitude of her hotel room.

# # # #

Frank stared at the small screen on his phone. Three?! He hadn't even had a nibble. He needed to step up his game. Suddenly, he spied Chase Westin headed into the _Maui Bar and Lounge_. Frank quickened his pace and entered the bar.

Chase took a seat at the bar.

Frank came up beside him and said, "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. What's your pleasure?" Chase shifted on the bar stool, getting comfortable.

"A beer." Frank settled himself on the stool next to Chase.

A bartender appeared and Chase ordered for both of them. Frank surveyed his surroundings. The bar had an English feel to it. Very upper-crust, especially the dark and gloomy, U-shaped mahogany bar. Small mahogany tables dotted the interior. In keeping with the English theme, two large windows gave on to a view of a beautiful rose garden.

The drinks arrived, a snifter of brandy for Chase, a frosted glass for Frank. The bartender expertly poured the chilled beer and produced a perfect frothy head.

Frank took a pull of his beer and thought about how to question Chase. Frank decided to take a gamble, to get right to the heart of the matter. "So, you worked at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_." It wasn't exactly a question. It sounded more like a statement of fact.

A flicker of suspicion flashed in Chase's brown eyes and displeasure tainted his voice. "You checking on everyone?" It wasn't an admission, but it wasn't an outright denial either.

So far, so good, Frank thought. "Yes, I am checking on everyone. It appears that you worked at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_ at the same time as Gwen. Gwen Hughes Airedale."

Chase froze, his snifter raised to his lips, his jaw clenched. He stared at Frank. Chase did not seem happy or pleased with the topic of conversation.

On closer inspection, Frank realized Chase's eyes were greenish-brown and glittered with nasty flecks of annoyance.

"Oh, and you were there at the same time as Diana Collins." Frank watched subtle hostility wash over Chase's face and his jaw clench tighter.

"Wh..who?"

The slight stammer didn't escape Frank's keen observation.

"Diana Collins," Frank repeated. He never took his eyes off Chase's face.

Chase placed his untouched drink on the bar. His hand stayed wrapped around the glass. His eyes narrowed. "Am I supposed to know her? Diana?" Irritation laced his voice and his tone had become challenging.

"Yes, I think you are." Frank rested an arm on the bar. "Or, to be more accurate, I think you _knew_ her. Past tense. She's dead … murdered." He leaned closer to Chase and lowered his voice, "The interesting thing is, she was murdered with the same weapon as Gwen Airedale. We found it, my brother and me. We fished it out of the ocean."

Chase's hand tightened around his drink and his eyes went deadly cold. "Is there a point to this .. to this conversation?" He glared at Frank.

"Yes, there is and I'll get right to it. How well did you know Diana Collins?"

"Like I said, I didn't know her." Venom laced Chase's words.

"Actually, you never said you didn't know her. You asked if you were _supposed_ to know her."

Chase turned his body so that he faced Frank. "Well then, let me be very clear. I'm telling you right now, I _didn't_ know her."

"I find that hard to believe. The two of you worked at the same company for quite a while." Frank was making all of this, but Chase didn't know that. Frank's feelings were, let him deny the accusations or tell him me I'm wrong.

Chase grabbed his drink, downed it in one swift gulp, and slammed the empty glass on the bar. "This conversation is over." He glowered at Frank, rose and added, "Oh, and get this straight, I never said I worked at .. at whatever the name of that place was. I don't appreciate people putting words in my mouth."

Frank had to think fast, his quarry was getting away. "Well then, you're probably not interested in the maid either."

Chase had taken two steps. He stopped dead in his tracks, his back to Frank.

 _Got him!_ Frank grinned as he took a sip of his beer.

Chase turned slowly. Confidence radiated off of him. His chin jutted up and he gave a derisive snort. "I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to ask, 'And what about the maid?' Right?"

Frank flashed a satisfied smile. "Yep."

"Okay, I'll bite. What about the maid?"

Frank turned back to the bar and took another sip of beer acting as though he'd lost interest in the conversation. "It's nothing important," he said with forced indifference. "I don't want to waste your time."

"Too late for that." In two quick strides brought Chase to Frank side. Chase's voice was rough and hard, "Let's not play games, Hardy. If you have something to say to me, then you'd damned well better say it."

Frank held up his hands. "Whoa. Hold on. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you all worked up. I just wanted to tell you that the maid is fine and she'll be able to answer questions in a few days. Of course, this has nothing to do with you as you've made perfectly clear. Sorry, my mistake."

"Got that right." Anger burned in Chase's eyes for a second then faded like the setting sun. An uncomfortable silence hung between the men as they stared at each other.

Finally, Chase shot Frank one last piercing glare and strode away. Frank could almost feel the man's bristling anger as he headed for the exit.

The bartender's voice drew Frank's attention. "Is he coming back?"

"I don't think so." Frank pulled a twenty from his pocket and laid it on the bar. "This should take care of both drinks."

"It will. Thanks." The bartender picked up Chase's empty snifter and the cash. He dropped the snifter in a tub of soapy water under the counter and went to wait on other customers.

At the far end of the bar, a tall figure emerged from the shadows. John Mansville had sat hidden behind an obese customer and had witnessed the entire exchange between Frank and Chase Westin. Mansville now made his way to Frank and slid onto the stool vacated by Chase. Mansville raised his glass to the bartender signaling he wanted another.

He turned to Frank and said, "Well, you sure got quite a rise out of Westin."

Frank was mildly surprised by his new companion. "Yeah, well, that wasn't entirely my intention."

"Detective work?" Mansville probed.

The bartender placed a fresh drink in front of Mansville and took away the old one.

Frank decided to be vague. "Yeah." He took a sip of beer and avoided eye contact. He hoped, and wanted, John Mansville to lead the conversation. Let's see what he's after, Frank thought.

The bartender set a bowl of peanuts between the men. Mansville scooped out a handful.

"Aaah," Mansville said munching, "two of my favorites, peanuts and a gin and tonic."

Frank eyed Mansville's highball glass filled with ice, clear liquid, and a lime wedge. "Your favorite, huh?"

"Yep." A sage smile lit up the older man's face. He adjusted his wire-rim eyeglasses and peered at Frank. "As you get older your tastes change .. develop .. deepen." He nodded at Frank's drink. "It won't always be beer. As you age, you come to appreciate the finer things in life. And a gin and tonic is one of the finer things in life." He lifted his glass and took an appreciative sip.

"Tonic water," Frank said. "Which once contained significant amounts of quinine. Quinine was used to combat malaria. Maybe that's where the phrase, 'Drink to your health' came from."

Mansville considered Frank's comment. "Very esoteric way of looking at things." He lifted an eyebrow. "It probably makes you a formidable detective."

"I certainly hope so."

Mansville scooped more peanuts from the bowl and popped a few in his mouth. "So, what can you tell me about the investigation or is that topic off-limits?"

"Not much." Then Frank reconsidered and added, "Actually, as I mentioned to Mr. Westin, it looks like the maid will recover in a day or two and be able to identify the killer."

"The maid?" Was Mansville more interested in this topic?

"Yes, the one who was bashed over the head and left for dead." Frank met John Mansville's steady gaze.

Mansville broke the gaze with a disinterested, "Oh." His attention returned to the peanuts in his hand.

It wasn't the response Frank was hoping for. Was Mansville interested in the maid or not? Did he already know about the maid being hit over the head? But how could he? That news had not been released to the press or announced in the hotel.

Dammit, Frank thought, he's not giving me much to work with. Does he know something or not?

Okay, time to cast out fresh bait.

Frank cleared his throat. "Yeah, she wasn't hurt as badly as the killer suspected. The doctors say she'll be good as new in a few days."

"Huh? Oh, the maid. Yes, well that is good news. Really good news for you .. for the investigators I mean. Maybe this case can be wrapped up by the time the fashion show ends. I know that would make Lance happy."

Mansville continued munching on peanuts. His mood seemed pensive.

"Yes," Frank said, "and we'll solve two murders, not just one."

This roused Mansville's attention. "What do you mean _two_ murders?"

Suddenly, a strong hand gripped each man's shoulder. "Aha! Caught you!"

Frank and Mansville jerked their heads round and stared at the smiling face of Parker James.

"Looks like a good way to spend the afternoon gentlemen. Care if I join you?" Parker asked.

"Not at all. Let's move to a table," Mansville suggested.

Moments later, the three men were comfortably seated at one of the mahogany tables in a quiet corner. Frank poured his second beer, Parker poured his first, and John Mansville retained his gin and tonic.

Parker lifted his glass to his lips and Frank watched the muscles bulge beneath the sleeves of his silk Hawaiian shirt. Parker's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he took a long drag of the icy beer.

Parker sat his glass down and wiped his mouth with a cocktail napkin. "That's just what the doctor ordered. How goes the case, Hardy? You and that pretty Miss Drew ever find out any more information on Gwen?"

Mansville answered before Frank could, "Hold on a minute Parker, Frank here was just about to tell me how they're going to solve two murders instead of one. I'd like him to elaborate."

Frank cleared his throat. "Ahem, to put it simply, Gwen Airedale and Diana Collins were killed with the same weapon." Frank went on and told how he and Joe had found the murder weapon in the ocean. He also said that ballistics tests confirmed the weapon had been used to kill Gwen _and_ Diana Collins.

John Mansville stared at Frank as if he could discern more information simply by studying Frank's face. Frank ignored the intense scrutiny.

Parker also stared at Frank. Or was that a glare? "You're kidding," he finally scoffed with a frown. "The actual murder weapon? In the ocean?"

Mansville frowned and shook his head as though something didn't quite sit right with him. However, he did not share his thoughts. Frank remembered how agitated Mansville had become during their previous meeting when Diana Collins' name had been mentioned. Frank would've loved to know what the older man was thinking at that moment.

It was time to go fishing again. Frank rested his arms on the table. "Mr. James, Mr. Mansville, I've learned that both Gwen and Diana worked at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_. I was wondering how long the two of you worked at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_."

The question brought both men up short. Both appeared surprised. Confusion and anger shrouded Mansville's face. "What the hell are you talking about Hardy?"

Parker held up a hand to silence Mansville. "It's okay, John. I see our detective has done his homework. They must be checking everyone. I don't deny it, I worked there, but what's that got to do with the murders?"

"Are you a fool, Parker?" Mansville declared. "Can't you see? I'm no Sherlock Holmes but even I can put two and two together. Gwen and Diana both worked at _Frazer and Frazer_ before they came to _Airedale Fashions_ and now they're both dead, killed by the same weapon. It's not hard to figure out what Hardy's insinuating."

Understanding dawned upon Parker and he stared a bit dumbfounded at Frank. "What? You think the killer worked at _Frazer and Frazer_ with Gwen and Diana? You think he was there when they were? Well, that clears me then. I worked there well over fifteen years ago, long before either Gwen or Diana. Heck, fifteen years ago they would've been what .. twelve .. or fifteen years old. Hell, I didn't even work there that long."

"As for me," Mansville said, an undercurrent of anger in his voice, "you need to check your facts better. I _never_ worked there. I retired from the military, the Army. And as I see it, this makes Lance your best suspect. He knew both women. He hired both women. They both wound up dead after their association with him. I hope you're looking at him."

"We are," Frank said. "Of course, the maid may solve this whole case for us when she wakes up and can answer our questions." He kept his eyes on Parker, wanting to see his reaction.

"Maid?" the man asked.

Frank related the story of the maid's attack. For the life of him, Frank would swear Parker showed genuine surprise. Either that or he was a darn good actor.

It was after five-thirty when Frank left the bar and texted Nancy.

 _Dinner at 7? I caught three, too. We need to compare notes. F._

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you kindly for the reviews. I love hearing that my writing style is easy to read and makes the chapters fly by. I love that people are trying to figure out who the murderer is or have a guess as to who it is._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Nancy had spent the last hour and a half getting to know Diana Collins. She'd carefully read over every piece of paper in the large file Frank had printed out earlier that day. Included were newspaper clippings and two obituaries, one in the _Chicago Tribune_ and the other in the _New York Post_. Neither had provided much insight. Nancy picked up the paper with the _Chicago Tribune's_ obituary of Diana. Sad really, that a person's whole life could be reduced to a few short sentences.

 _Diana Collins, 35, daughter of industrialist Harvey Collins (deceased) and noted New York fashion designer Margie Collins, was gunned down in her Chicago apartment on April 2, 2002. Diana Collins, a designer for Airedale Fashions, had recently signed a lucrative deal with Wal-Mart Stores. Ms. Collins had made a name for herself in the fashion world with her eclectic mix of fashion accessories. Margie Collins, hospitalized with terminal lung cancer, was unable to comment on her daughter's untimely death. The police have no suspects at this time._

There it was, in black and white, the sum total of Diana's life. At least, what the media thought was important. And what did the police have to say? Not much. According to the police reports there had been no forced entry which meant Diana probably knew her killer … she'd let him in. Somewhere along the way things had turned ugly. Defensive wounds – cuts and bruises – on Diana's face and arms indicated she had fought with the killer.

Did that mean the killer had not gone there with the sole purpose of killing her? He'd had a gun. He could have shot her the minute he entered the apartment. He hadn't and that begged the question of why.

Had he gone there hoping to reason with Diana? Had he demanded something from her and been refused? Nancy let that idea sink in. It made the most sense. If only she knew the exact reason for the killer's visit.

Nancy scanned the papers spread across the glass table in her hotel room. She remembered the police reports had mentioned nothing was stolen or missing. Therefore, robbery wasn't a motive. The killer hadn't even bothered to make it look like a robbery.

Nancy mulled over a few ideas while tapping her chin with an index finger. There had been no forced entry and nothing stolen during Gwen's murder either.

Nancy peered at her computer. Diana's smiling face filled the screen. The color image was one of many Walter (from the Hardy Detective Agency) had sent. The caption for this photo stated it had been taken backstage at the Airedale Annual Christmas Fashion Show. Walter had sent seventeen photos in all and Nancy had skimmed through all of them several times.

However, she kept coming back to this particular photo. Something about it spoke to her, tugged at her.

Diana, wearing a fashionable blue suit and a big smile, stood with her hands on her hips looking directly at the camera. The young woman looked truly happy. The phrase, ' _on top of the world_ ' would be a perfect description for the happiness Diana exuded in this photo.

A wide scarlet belt circled her waist and the collar of a stiff white shirt stood up around her neck partly obscuring a bright blue necklace. Shiny chestnut-colored hair, cut in a blunt pageboy, fell just below her ears and followed the curve of a strong jawline. Thick bangs topped pale-colored eyes that sparkled with life. Nancy squinted and tried to determine the exact color of Diana's eyes. They could be blue, green, or hazel. It was impossible to determine from the photo.

Nancy skimmed through the photos one more time. She paid close attention to Diana's accessories. Nancy noted that Diana favored unique accessories – wide belts, colorful scarves with intricate patterns, and chunky necklaces with large geometric shapes and bright colors. Since Diana had been a jewelry designer, Nancy wondered how many of the necklaces, if any, Diana had designed herself.

Nancy pushed back from the table and rubbed her weary eyes. Fatigue was setting in. She'd been hunched over the computer or papers for far too long. She stood and stretched and caught a glimpse of the bedside clock. Good grief! It was six o'clock! How did it get so late?

Well, that explained her rumbling stomach. Where was Bess? Then Nancy remembered she'd muted her phone so she could work undisturbed. She dug it out of her handbag and discovered two missed text messages.

The first was from Frank. She chuckled softly and her mood instantly lifted. "He caught three fish, too. I can't wait to compare notes."

The second text was from Bess.

 _Hi Nan, Guess you're working hard. Joe just showed up & we're taking a stroll on the beach. I needed to unwind after the day I've had! Got Frank's message. We're all meeting at 7. Same place as last night. Bess_

It was now a few minutes past six o'clock. Nancy had to hustle if she was going to be ready on time. Her shorts were wrinkled from sitting all day. Why not dress up a little for dinner? How about a skirt and scandals with a bit of a heel?

Thirty minutes later she opened the door to leave and got the surprise of her life. The very handsome, very rugged Frank Hardy was waiting for her. He was leaning against the far wall. He'd changed into a nice shirt and looked freshly showered and shaved. His dark hair, neatly combed, glistened and his eyes were focused, rather intently, on her and only her. Her breath caught in her throat. Did he have any idea how he made her heart race? The smile on her face might be a clue.

"Frank, you didn't tell me you were going to be waiting," she scolded playfully as he stepped forward. Her flirtatious smile softened to one of pure affection. She liked him near her.

Frank took her arm. The amorous glint in his eyes told her the skirt had been a good choice and the heels cut the distance between their lips. Frank took immediate advantage of that fact and leaned in for a quick kiss. Much too quick. It left Nancy wanting more.

He lightly nuzzled her neck and his lips moved to her ear. In a pillow-soft whisper, he teased, "I hear there's a killer in the hotel. I didn't want you walking alone. No telling what could happen."

No telling indeed. His warm breath tickled her skin and set off a wave of spine-tingling shivers that raised goose bumps along her arms. The soothing comfort of his body, brushing against hers, calmed her restless nature. She inhaled his scent. Clean, crisp, with a hint of musk.

With considerable effort, she managed to say, "It's nice to have my own personal bodyguard, not to mention we can compare notes while we walk to the restaurant."

"See, great minds think alike." Frank smiled as they strode along the hall.

The case wasn't the only thing running through Nancy's mind and she didn't think it was the only thing on Frank's mind either. But they were dedicated detectives. The job always came first. By the time they arrived at the restaurant they had discussed the case and brought each other up-to-date on their progress.

Bess and Joe were seated at a table enjoying drinks when Frank and Nancy arrived.

Joe held up a glass of beer in greeting to his brother. "I almost ordered one for you, bro."

"Good thing you didn't," Frank said and pulled Nancy's chair out for her. "I've already had two this afternoon and that's definitely enough for me." He took a seat next to Nancy and picked up the menu lying on the plate in front of him.

Joe's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Two? Already? I thought you were working the case?"

"Actually, we went fishing," Nancy said with an impish grin.

Bess was positively baffled. "Fishing?"

"Yes," Frank glanced up from his menu, "and we caught some really big fish."

Joe's expression slowly went from quizzical to comprehension. Grinning and nodding, he turned to Bess and explained, "They were doing detective work. _Fishing_ is one of Frank's favorite tactics for drawing out the bad guys."

"And it never fails," Frank said emphatically then closed the menu and laid it down.

Joe rolled his eyes. "So you've told me many times." Before Frank could respond, Joe asked, "What did you two find on this fishing trip?"

Frank shared his observations and the conversations he'd had with the husbands. Frank's verdict was that any one of them could have committed the murder. Each man was still a suspect.

The discussion was briefly halted when the waitress arrived and took their orders.

Once the waitress was out of earshot, Nancy told the group about Parker James' meeting with the young, attractive brunette.

Bess' mouth fell open. "I can't believe it! Poor Mrs. James. She's so nice. You don't think she knows do you?"

Nancy shook her head and implored her friend, "No, and please, remember that this is all speculation at this point. I don't have any hard evidence against him. Only suspicions."

Joe let out a sarcastic snort. "Yeah, right. I wouldn't put it past him. He comes off as one smug bas―"

"Anyway," Nancy quickly interjected, "after tea with the ladies I spent the rest of the afternoon researching Diana Collins. I found out that she comes from a wealthy family. Her father died several years before she was murdered. He was an industrialist and her mother was a fashion designer. Her mother had lung cancer at the time of the murder and passed away only a few months after Diana."

The sensitive Bess, her eyes crinkled, voiced the sorrow she genuinely felt, "That's so, so sad. Did Diana have any brothers or sisters?"

"I didn't see any mentioned in the file and none were mentioned in the obituaries." Nancy shared Bess' sorrow for Diana.

Joe leaned forward, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Did Diana get an inheritance when her father died?"

The waitress approached carrying a large tray of dinner salads and Nancy and Frank's iced teas.

Nancy unfolded her napkin and laid it on her lap as the waitress placed a salad in front of her. "I don't know," she said answering Joe's question. "None of the articles or obituaries I read mentioned an inheritance, but that's a good line of reasoning and something we should pursue."

After the waitress left, Nancy continued, "I got the distinct impression Diana was forging her own career, she wasn't living off of mom and dad's money or their fame. Diana had established herself in the fashion industry and by all accounts was considered a rising star with a promising career in front of her. She had her own fashion line and a contract with Wal-Mart."

Joe picked up his fork. "Well, if we look at this case analytically, the way Frank would, or would suggest we should," Frank's brows lowered and he fixed Joe with a wary gaze, "there are four main reasons people commit murder: revenge, protection, love, and money. I think this case falls into the money category."

"And what are you basing that theory on?" Frank, with a forkful of lettuce poised and ready to eat, stared at his brother, the wary gaze intact.

"We're dealing with rich people here. Every one of them. The Airedales, the Jameses, and the others. Who wouldn't want to horn-in on that? Mark my words, money's involved somehow. You can call it a hunch, or better yet, call it Joe's intuition." He smiled gleefully and stabbed at his salad.

"Now who's being smug?" Frank said.

"Okay, you're right." Joe chuckled. "I have no clue what the motive is in this case, but money's always a safe bet."

Frank changed the subject. "Find anything at the maid's apartment?"

"As a matter of fact we did." Joe told the group about the fifty-dollar bill found on Rosita's kitchen counter. To Joe's chagrin, neither Frank nor Nancy, appeared to place much importance on the money. "Don't you see?" he said. "The killer might've touched that bill. We can get fingerprints."

Frank pushed his empty salad plate to the side. "That's a possibility. I think it's more likely to be grocery money."

Joe nudged his brother's arm with an elbow and grinned. "See, money's involved. We can't get away from the money angle."

Frank rolled his eyes then shocked Joe by saying, "I liked your idea about an inheritance better. Actually, I like it so much I'm going to pursue that line of investigation tonight. What we need to find out is, who, if anyone, benefited from Diana's death?"

Joe was stunned. It wasn't often his older brother announced he liked one of his ideas, let alone planned to follow up on it. Eager to ride this wave of euphoria, Joe offered another suggestion, "Maybe Diana was murdered so someone else could move up the ladder of success?"

"Maybe." Frank stared straight ahead and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Bess was perplexed and didn't mind showing it. "But what about Gwen? How does Diana's murder relate to Gwen's murder?"

Joe had an answer. "Maybe she's the one who benefited from Diana's death." He looked at Nancy. "Didn't you say that Gwen was considered an up and coming designer, too?"

"I did." Nancy inclined her head. "Are you thinking someone killed Diana so Gwen could advance up the career ladder?"

Frank gave an emphatic shake of his head. "That doesn't fit with the facts we've uncovered. Diana was killed shortly _after_ she started working at _Airedale Fashions_. Gwen was working at _Frazer and Frazer_ when Diana was killed and continued to work at _Frazer and Frazer_ for two whole years after Diana's death."

Nancy provided more sobering facts. "Very true, Diana was killed April 2, 2002. Gwen didn't even start working at _Airedale's_ until June 2004 so it doesn't seem she could've benefited from Diana's death."

Bess sighed with a disheartened pout. "None of it makes any sense to me."

"No, it doesn't," Nancy said, "but then, murder rarely does."

Nancy changed the subject and asked Joe, "How's Rosita? Any change? Any word on when she might come out of the coma?"

Joe's expression was glum. "No. She's no worse which is good, but the doctors don't have any idea when she'll wake up. You know what surprises me? Butch."

"Butch?" Frank was instantly all ears. "The guard? What about him?"

"He's a walking zombie," Joe said, "I don't think he's slept in over a day. He's really concerned and _really_ protective of Rosita. He's been at the hospital non-stop just watching over her and guarding her. Anybody who wants to get to Rosita will have to go through him first. And that's a heck of a guy to go through. He's built like a Sherman tank."

Light chuckles erupted around the table.

Frank's smile faded and a frown rose in its place. "A Sherman tank that owes me two hundred dollars."

Bess and Nancy's curious expressions prompted Frank to explain about the bet he'd made on the day of his and Joe's ocean dive.

"Well, Frank," Joe said scooping up the last of his salad, "you'll be happy to know Butch and I talked about that."

"Really? When do I get my money?"

Joe chewed, swallowed and wiped his mouth before answering. "Sorry, I told him to keep it." He reached for his beer thinking, here it comes.

"You did what? Why'd you do that? I made that bet fair and square and we found the weapon just like I said we would."

Yep, there it was, right on cue. Frank's temper. Joe finished sipping his beer, sat down the glass and said, "I noticed you said _we_ in that last sentence. Did you notice that? ' _We_ found the weapon.' And _we_ probably wouldn't have found it if _**I**_ hadn't suggested reenacting the scene. Remember that part?"

Frank glared at his brother, his jaw twitching something fierce.

"I'll take that as a yes." Joe smiled and patted Frank's shoulder. "Don't worry, bro. The money's going to a good cause."

"Huh? How's that?" Frank's brow knotted in confusion.

"Butch told me he's been in contact with Rosita's mother who lives in California with Rosita's two younger sisters. The mother would really like to come out here and be with her daughter when she wakes up. The doctors have told Butch it would be best if a family member stayed with Rosita and watched over her when she's released from the hospital. The family's not rich as you might've guessed and they can't afford a plane ticket to fly mom out here. So, I thought about it a bit and told Butch to consider that two hundred dollars as our contribution towards a plane ticket."

Bess leaned over and planted a kiss on Joe's unsuspecting cheek. "Why Joe, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard! I want to make a contribution, too."

"So do I," Nancy seconded.

Joe's cheeks turned a faint pink and his blue eyes twinkled in the afterglow of Bess' impromptu kiss which had been a very pleasant surprise.

Frank squeezed Joe's shoulder. "You did good little brother. I'm proud of you. Sorry I got a little hot under the collar about the money."

"No problem," Joe answered, "I love watching your face turn that weird shade of purple."

Frank chuckled good-naturedly. He could take a little ribbing and he'd expect nothing less from his brother. Besides, the money was going to a good cause. He certainly couldn't complain.

Nancy, thinking about Rosita's situation, said, "Maybe we can help even more. I can go online and check the daily flights from California to Hawaii. I'll print out the information." She pointed at Joe. "You can give it to Butch and Rosita's mother. She can decide which flight she wants and let us know. Once we have the information I'll go online and book the flight using our credit cards. That way, she doesn't have to worry about the fare."

"That an awesome idea," Joe said, "I'll phone Butch after dinner and tell him our plan. I'm sure he'll appreciate the help."

Salad plates were cleared and the good mood everyone felt continued with the arrival of their food. As the waitress deftly handed out entrees Frank touched Nancy's arm and discreetly pointed. "Our suspects."

Nancy followed the direction Frank indicated. She spotted all three couples, the Westins, Jameses, and Mansvilles being seated at a table near the windows.

Over entrees Bess shared the events of her day and all the hard work of getting ready for Friday's fashion show. Nancy only half listened as she ate, not really tasting her food, and it wasn't the food's fault. She had a juicy steak grilled to perfection and topped with sautéed onions. Nancy's mind was elsewhere, on the three couples seated a few tables away.

Although they were a mere six people, they formed a microcosm of humanity. Each person was a unique representation of the human race. Each person was interesting, and a veritable study in contrasts. Each person was made up of hidden layers, layers that defined who they were based on individual life experiences, personal trials and tribulations. Each person stood as an example of good, or evil, and one of them was a killer. Of that Nancy was certain. She didn't know which one yet, but given time she would.

Nancy took a bite of her steak and onions. She savored the earthy flavor and the sweet tang of onion. Her mind quickly returned to those six people. If only she could peel back their layers, like an onion, and look beneath the exterior to what lay beneath. Then she'd unearth the real individual lurking inside and discover their true motives.

Parker James was smiling and laughing as he sipped a glass of wine. On the surface he was handsome. His good looks paired nicely with his muscular body. The sprinkling of gray in his short brown hair wouldn't deter a younger woman, especially one looking for a rich husband. If anything, it made him more appealing. He appeared established, stable … safe.

However, peel back the layers and what would you find? A cheating spouse. Underneath he was deceitful and dishonest. If he was capable of cheating so casually on his wife, could he also commit murder? How far would Parker go to cover up his extramarital affairs? Would he murder to keep his indiscretions hidden?

His manner tonight was very solicitous. The occasional affectionate arm around his wife's shoulders. A tender touch of her hand. He matched each of her smiles with one of his own. But the icing on the cake was the feather-light kisses he deposited on her cheek.

 _Oh gag me_ , Nancy thought with an involuntary sneer. And for heaven's sakes, it seemed to be working, poor Paula was practically glowing.

Nancy took another bite of her steak and switched her gaze to Chase Westin. Slim and trim, also good looking. Frank had touched a nerve in Chase this afternoon. What secret, or secrets, was he hiding? He'd gone out of his way to be evasive. Did he in fact have ties to both murder victims? If so, he wouldn't be pleased at having that fact revealed. What really lay beneath his charming exterior? He too, was being overly solicitous of his wife tonight. What was up with these husbands? Guilty consciences?

Then there was John Mansville. On the surface he appeared to be the classic, older, distinguished gentleman. Nancy studied his expression. He didn't seem to be in a good mood tonight. His smile was forced, his eyes wary, almost angry at times. Why?

"A penny for your thoughts," Frank said breaking into Nancy's reverie.

Nancy wiped her lips with her napkin and smiled. "It'll cost you a lot more than a penny."

"Hey, I just lost out on two hundred bucks. I'm a little short tonight. Can you take pity on a guy?"

Their eyes met, his searching for answers, wondering what she'd been thinking about so intently.

"I was studying our suspects," Nancy said.

Frank followed Nancy's quick glance at the couples enjoying their meals. "They're a very interesting group," he said under his breath.

"Yes, they are." Nancy's gaze returned to the three couples.

# # # #

After dinner, Bess said, "Oh, I see the wives are here. If you guys will excuse me for a minute I'd like to tell them they can pick up their VIP passes for the fashion show anytime they like tomorrow. I know they'll appreciate getting them a day ahead of everyone else."

"I'll go with you," Nancy said.

Frank and Joe were left to pay the bill.

Nancy and Bess strode to the couples' table. Bess explained about the passes while Nancy admired the wives' jewelry. Perhaps, because she'd spent the afternoon studying Diana Collins' unusual assortment of jewelry, Nancy was attracted to necklaces tonight. Barbara Westin had a particularly interesting one.

"That's a stunning necklace you're wearing," Nancy told Barbara. "Is it lapis lazuli?"

"Yes, it is. You have a good eye." Barbara lightly touched the distinctive blue stones. She gave her husband a look of genuine affection and said, "It was the very first gift Chase ever gave me. It's one of a kind, numbered by the jeweler."

"It's beautiful. You're a very lucky lady." Nancy glanced from Barbara to her husband.

Chase scooped his wife's hand up and kissed it lightly. "And I'm a very lucky man." Nancy turned her attention to Paula. "Your necklace is stunning, too. Are those garnets?"

"Jade," Paula corrected with a look of pride. "A gift from my dear husband as well." Paula blessed Parker with an overly sweet smile which he returned with one of his own. "I'm mad about jewelry," Paula told Nancy, "you know my fashion line is all about accessories. That's actually how Parker and I met. He was in the fashion business himself. He worked with accessories at one time."

"Is that so?" One of Nancy's brows rose ever so slightly.

"He offers me advice from time to time." Paula smiled at her husband again. "However, I usually don't take his advice." She laughed and everyone else did, too.

After the laughter died down, Kate joked, "Well, don't leave me out. You must admire my necklace, too, Nancy."

"Of course." Nancy approached for a closer look and was stunned by what she saw. "Are those real diamonds?"

"They are." Kate wore a satisfied smile.

Nancy, asked John Mansville, "A gift from you?"

John nodded. "You bet your bottom dollar and she's worth every penny." He slid an arm around Kate's shoulders and placed a quick peck on her tanned cheek.

Parker James lifted his wine glass. "I'd say this calls for a toast."

His fellow diners lifted their drinks and Parker said, "To our lovely wives. May we be blessed with their company for many years to come."

As Nancy and Bess left the couples, Nancy wondered how many happy years those couples had in store for them.

# # # #

Nancy, Frank, Joe, and Bess took a leisurely stroll around the hotel to walk off their dinner. They did some window shopping and discussed the fashion show. Tomorrow was Thursday, the last day before the show, and it promised to be another busy day for Bess. She admitted to feeling overwhelmed by the vast array of tasks awaiting her in the morning. Fittings for models, runway rehearsals, setting up dressing rooms and hair and make-up stations. Then finalizing seating arrangements for VIP guests.

"I'm sorry," Bess said. "It's going to be another early night for me. But once the fashion show is over, I promise, we can enjoy the beach and a late night."

"You sound like you're apologizing," Joe said.

"Maybe I am."

"No need to," Frank said. "I'm anxious to do some digging into Diana's background. My night will be spent in front of a computer in my room, not on the beach."

He smiled at Bess and she felt relieved. Her friends were just as busy as she was.

Frank had questions that needed answers. Did Diana gain financially by her father's death? Did she have relatives? Did anyone benefit from her death?

Joe said he wanted to call Butch and inform him of the group's offer to assist with the plane fare. He would also tell Butch that they would like to help Rosita's family in other ways, too. Maybe they could have food in the apartment, ready for the family when they came. All agreed this was a good idea.

Nancy and Bess said good-night to the guys and headed for their room.

When Nancy crawled into bed later that night, she had a nagging feeling she'd missed something important. For the life of her she couldn't say what it was. She racked her brain hoping for a glimmer of recognition. It was no use, she was too tired. Perhaps, it would come to her during the night.

She switched off the bedside lamp and pulled the covers over her.

Sleep, and perchance to dream, she thought as a yawn overtook her. She closed her eyes and snuggled her head against the pillow.

# # # #

 _He_ thought of Gwen's untimely death and felt a momentary twinge of regret. It passed quickly. Her death had been inevitable. She'd seen too much and known too much. Unfortunately, she knew everything about him. One day she might have turned on him. Told all she knew. Revealed his secret.

Gwen had been a risk, an intrusive distraction, for seven long years. Well, no more and good riddance. Now only the maid stood in his way.

"Thank you Frank Hardy for sharing that piece of information," he mumbled softly to the starry night sky. "But don't doubt for a minute that I didn't see it for what it was. A trap." A soft chuckle. "I bet you thought I would run right to the hospital. Not on your life. What do you take me for? A fool? No, I'll bide my time, play your game. That maid isn't waking up anytime soon … _if_ she wakes up at all."

He scowled and his brow formed an angry V. A chilly breeze blew off the ocean and ruffled his shirt. Waves crashed onto the volcanic outcrop and sent up a fine mist. The moist spray and its salty scent filled his nostrils. This is where he'd thrown that damn gun into the ocean. He'd thought that was the end of it. No one would ever be able to make the connection to Diana Collins.

How in the hell had Frank Hardy found the gun? More importantly, how had he known where to look?

Realization hit him like a slap in the face. Hardy must have been here that night. Hidden somewhere. He spun around and scanned the area. He spied the tall, flowering bushes beside the metal stairs. There, he thought, Hardy had been hidden there. Not that this knowledge helped him one bit, because it didn't. The damage was done. It didn't even matter why Hardy had been here.

Maybe, he thought, he should cut his losses. Leave now while he could. No good-byes. Just board a plane and disappear. It seemed the wisest choice at first. However, his brain warned, don't be rash, those detectives are grasping at straws. They have no idea who the killer is. That's the reason for the cat-and-mouse games. They're hoping you'll screw-up. Actually, they're counting on it.

 _Don't fall for it. Don't be a fool._

His cell phone buzzed, yanking him from his dark thoughts. Probably his wife. He'd promised her he'd take no more long strolls and here he was. He'd abandoned her again. Not good for appearances or waylaying suspicions. He pressed the talk button before it registered with him that the caller was _not_ his wife.

"Hello," he said. Cautious, yet casual. What in the world did this person want?

A moment later he pressed the end button and stared at his phone as if it could explain the strange call. Very curious to say the least. He shook his head and headed into the hotel.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you dear readers for the reviews. They are much appreciated and a joy to read. I see some of you have guesses as to who the murderer is. Things are starting to unravel now. ;)_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Nancy's eyes flew open, her heart was pounding. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Morning sunlight filtered into the room from between the slit in the drapes. Bess' bed was empty and the room was quiet. Nancy had gone to bed with something bugging her, something nipping at the edge of her mind, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. That something had come to her. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

She kicked off the covers and got out of bed. The bedside clock read six o'clock. She had to see Frank. With all the extra software he had on his computer, he should be able to do exactly what she wanted. Then, and only then, would she be certain the puzzle pieces fit together correctly.

In a hurry now, Nancy pulled on running shorts and a tank top. She ran a brush through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. She grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table and punched in Frank's number. While she waited for him to answer she shoved her feet into flip-flops.

# # # #

Frank opened the door of his room before Nancy had a chance to knock. He wore dark blue shorts and a white t-shirt. He was barefooted and his hair could use a comb. He yawned into his fist as Nancy entered the room.

She noticed dark circles under his eyes. "You don't look like you got much sleep last night."

"Didn't." He closed the door quietly, put a finger to his lips, and pointed at Joe's bed. "Still asleep," he whispered.

Oh, Nancy mouthed. There was a messy mound of covers on the closest bed. Nancy assumed Joe was buried under there somewhere.

In a whisper, she asked Frank, "What did you find out?"

Frank waved her over to the glass table where his computer was set-up. He offered her a bottled water which she accepted. She dropped her handbag on one of the chairs and twisted the cap off the water bottle. Both she and Frank sat at the table.

Frank tapped some keys on his computer, turned to Nancy, and whispered, "I've been on the computer, or on the phone, all night researching Diana Collins. I've had help from Walter at the Hardy Detective Agency. We've discovered that Diana's mother, Margie, was married three times. The first marriage was when she was very young and didn't last long."

Nancy sipped her water.

Frank picked up a sheet of paper on the table, his notes, looked it over and said, "We all know about the third marriage to industrialist Harvey Collins. Diana was the only child of that marriage. It's the second marriage that's interesting. Margie's second husband was Edward Kelliher, a self-made millionaire and CEO of a small airline in upper-state New York. Margie and Ed married in '56 and divorced in '64. The interesting part is, they had a child, a son. I found the birth record. The son was born in 1960."

Nancy blinked at Frank, her eyes wide. "That would make him about 49 now. Right?" Frank nodded and Nancy said, "What's his name? I'm assuming he's still alive."

"He is. It took some work tracking him down. He's changed his name a number of times over the years."

"Run-ins with the law?" Nancy guessed.

"Yup. Nothing major, mostly burglaries. In his late teens and early twenties he had a bad habit of robbing his rich neighbors and friends. I hate to say this. Actually, it _pains_ me to say this, but Joe was right. This case is definitely about money."

The mound of covers suddenly came to life and a muffled voice said, "I heard that."

Nancy and Frank burst into laughter.

"Did we woke you?" Frank asked.

"No." Joe sat up and rubbed his eyes. The covers fell to his lap. He was nude from the waist up. "Just tell me how this all relates to our suspects and victims."

Nancy was treated to a nice view of Joe's impressive biceps and pecs. Not a bad way to start the morning. Also a nice reminder of the day she found Frank and Joe lying on the beach after their dive. She felt a longing for the handsome, dark haired man sitting across from her.

Frank was saying, "Diana and her half-brother were each supposed to inherit two hundred thousand dollars when their mother, Margie, died. Diana was murdered several months before her mother died of lung cancer which meant she didn't inherit her share. Walter e-mailed me a copy of Margie Collins' will. There's a provision in it that stipulates a sole survivor inherits both shares. In other words, the son would inherit four hundred thousand dollars upon his mother's death if Diana was dead."

Nancy's jaw dropped. "Diana's brother, I mean half-brother, murdered her for the money. It all makes sense now. He would've known his mother was dying of cancer and he most likely knew about the inheritance and the will." She drummed her fingers on the glass table. "It's not a bad plan. Kill your half-sister months _before_ mom dies. Less suspicious that way."

Joe ran a hand through his flattened hair and shook his head. "But it's still suspicious. Couldn't the Chicago police figure that out? Please tell me they investigated the brother." He tossed off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

A horrified grimace spread over Frank's face. "Joe? Tell me you're wearing something. We have a guest."

One corner of Joe's mouth lifted in a grin. "Of course, I'm wearing something. Why would you even question that?"

"Because I know you." Sarcasm laced every word. "There's such a thing as etiquette .."

Frank didn't finish. Joe did exactly what Frank feared he would do and walked to the bathroom wearing only his briefs.

"Nature calls. I have to pee for, God's sake," Joe declared indignantly and disappeared into the bathroom. Before he shut the door, he called out, "Relax a little, bro. My underwear is no different than a Speedo swimsuit. Actually, it probably covers more than a Speedo."

The bathroom door slammed shut.

Nancy put a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. She saw clearly what Frank apparently could not. Joe did and said things, on occasion, just to rile his brother. Why the very astute Frank had not figured this out was beyond Nancy.

Frank shook his head and prepared to apologize.

Nancy smiled at him. "He's right. Briefs really aren't much different than a Speedo." She leaned closer and put her hands on Frank's knees. It was an intimate gesture. "And just so you know, Frank. I _hate_ Speedos."

Frank chuckled. Nancy would never see him in a Speedo. "I hate them, too. Glad we got that settled."

Nancy's soft pink lips were right there, inches away, begging to be kissed.

It was the flushing toilet that stopped him.

He stood abruptly. "Excuse me."

He scooped Joe's sheets and bedcovers off the floor and heaved them on the bed. On the floor, in a crumbled heap, was what he was looking for. Joe's shorts. Frank grabbed and tossed them on the bathroom vanity just as Joe stepped out of the toilet/shower area.

"Put those on," Frank growled as he returned to the table. "And wash your hands."

"Yes, mother," Joe said in a mocking high falsetto. He couldn't resist making fun of Frank, but the sound of running water indicated he was following instructions.

Nancy giggled out loud. Again, Joe had gotten to Frank.

Frank squared his shoulders and shook his head as if to say, Joe could be annoying at times. "Okay, back to the case."

Nancy tapped the table with an index finger. "I hope you're going to tell me the name of the son."

"Donald Kelliher."

Nancy leaned back and crossed her arms. "Definitely not the name we know him by." She smiled at Frank and surprised him with her next statement. "Doesn't matter, I think I know his name, the one he's using now, but first I'd like to hear what else you found out."

Joe emerged from the bathroom area wearing shorts. He searched the floor around his bed.

"Aha!" he cried triumphantly and held up a wrinkled orange t-shirt as if it were a prize he'd just won.

Frank rolled his eyes, but was happy to see Joe slip the t-shirt over his head.

"Ed Kelliher remarried when his son was twelve years old," Frank said. "Ed died ten years ago of a massive heart attack and left his entire fortune to his second wife, Sharon Kelliher. After a bit of searching I was able to locate the second Sharon Kelliher in New York where she lives and is the current CEO of her late husband's airline company. Thanks to the time difference between Hawaii and New York I was able to interview her this morning via phone."

" _Annnd_?" Nancy prompted anxious to hear the rest of the story.

Joe stretched out on his bed, put his hands behind his head, and listened.

" _Annnnd_ ," Frank said mimicking Nancy, "I explained to Sharon Kelliher who I was and that I was investigating the murders of Gwen Airedale and Diana Collins. I also told her I thought her stepson might be connected to the women's murders. I have to say she didn't seem surprised by the accusation. She certainly didn't try to dissuade me or proclaim her stepson's innocence."

"What did she say about him?" Nancy asked.

Joe crossed his legs at the ankles and closed his eyes.

"She said she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he had murdered Diana. Her exact words were, she wouldn't put it past him. According to her, Donald always had a sense of entitlement. She blames her husband for that. She said he was way too lenient on his son. Apparently, dad never pushed Don to get a job and stand on his own two feet. Dad always took the easy way out and sent Don money every time he phoned home with a sob story. Dad's excuse was, _'It's just to get Don back on his feet. This'll be the last time.'_ Of course, it was never the last time and dear old Don never got on his feet."

A long drawn-out yawn overtook Frank. "Sorry, I'm a little tired." He stood, stretched his arms, and rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks that had settled during the long night.

He paced the room to get his blood flowing and his brain working. "Sharon Kelliher said Don was frequently strapped for cash. He never held a steady job. She was happy when he finally decided to give modeling a try. She thought he might be good at it. He had the looks and the build for it. She thought he had a shot at being a top male model, _if_ he was willing to put in the effort. Unfortunately he wasn't. Don never had drive or ambition when it came to jobs. Sharon heard he'd show up late for shoots or not at all. It was easy for him to blow-off modeling gigs. Dear old dad was always ready, willing, and able to send money to get Don through the rough spots."

"Lazy. Deadbeat. User," Joe aptly labeled him.

"I couldn't agree more." Frank plopped into his chair at the table. "Sharon Kelliher said Don called every three months or so looking for money. Against her wishes, her husband always sent it and it wasn't small sums either. It was usually ten to twenty thousand dollars at a time."

"Talk about expensive tastes." Joe sat up on the bed and arranged the pillows behind his back then leaned against them.

Nancy had scribbled a few notes on a notepad. "When was the last time Sharon Kelliher heard from her stepson?"

"Almost eight years ago," Frank said. "Remember, dear old dad died ten years ago. Sharon Kelliher said her husband finally did in death what he could never do in life. He cut off his son financially."

"Ouch," Joe said. "That had to hurt. No more free handouts."

"Dad must've left Don something," Nancy reasoned.

Frank nodded. "He did, just not as much as Don was hoping for. He got five hundred thousand dollars. Sharon Kelliher got everything else and complete control of her husband's assets and estate which was – _is_ – considerable."

"How soon was dear old Don asking her for money?" Joe quipped, a sour tone in his voice.

"Almost immediately," Frank answered. "But Sharon Kelliher refused to give him one red cent. She told him he had two options. One, he could earn money the good-old-fashioned way and get a job. Or two, he could invest some of his inheritance in his father's company and, in all likelihood, live off the interest. She thought he might go for the second option. He didn't. Instead, he threatened to contest the will. However, he didn't have the drive to see it through and she hasn't heard from him since."

Nancy tapped the table. "Hmmm, with Don's expensive taste, how long do you suppose five hundred thousand dollars would last?"

Frank had asked himself the same question. "Diana was murdered three years after Ed Kelliher's death so, I'd say about three years."

Joe hopped off the bed. "How come the Chicago police couldn't figure all this out? Don looks like the perfect suspect."

"No evidence," Frank told him, "not even circumstantial. Right after I finished talking to Sharon Kelliher I phoned the detectives who've worked the case. They told me they liked Don for the murder and felt certain he did it. He lived in the area – under a different name of course – but other than the inheritance, they couldn't find a scrap of physical evidence to tie him to the crime scene. There were no fingerprints, no DNA, no hair or fibers. Nothing. They never found anything that would put Don Kelliher in Diana's apartment."

"Well, maybe I have." Nancy smiled at Frank and Joe.

The brothers stared at her expectantly.

"Really? What's that?" Joe pulled up a chair and got comfortable.

Nancy explained about the necklaces the wives had worn at dinner last night. One in particular had caught her eye. It had looked familiar. She'd seen that necklace earlier in the day, in a photo taken at the annual _Airedale's Christmas Fashion Show_. The necklace had been around Diana's very own neck.

Frank turned to his computer. He had skimmed through all the photos last night and was quite familiar with them. He tapped some keys and brought up the photo on the screen.

"This one?" He pointed at the image.

Nancy stood and leaned over Frank's shoulder. "Yes, that's the one. And this is why I wanted to see you this morning. I'm sure you can zoom in on that necklace. I want to see it up close and personal."

Frank tapped a few keys and the necklace filled the screen. "How's that?"

"I need more detail. Can you magnify the image a little more?"

"Give me a minute."

It took several minutes and adjustments and a few choice words. But finally, Frank had a clear, sharp image of the enlarged necklace centered on the screen. Frank was surprised Nancy could identify the necklace at all. A good portion of it was hidden by Diana's collar.

Nancy folded one arm across her chest, rested a hand on her chin, and studied the image. "I'm almost positive it's the same necklace." She looked from Frank to Joe. "Diana's blue necklace looks exactly like the lapis lazuli necklace Barbara Westin was wearing at dinner last night."

Nancy's gaze fell on Frank and she grinned. "Chase Westin's our man, isn't he?"

Frank returned Nancy's grin. "That's one of the many aliases he's used." The grin faded and Frank frowned. "We need to prove Barbara's necklace and Diana's are one and the same. How do you propose to do that?"

"I have a plan. Last night Barbara told me the necklace was the first gift her husband gave her."

Joe spat out, "A gift he probably stole right off his dead sister's neck."

Nancy shuddered at the thought. She remembered the police report had said Diana had fought with her attacker. Had she and Chase fought over the necklace?

Nancy pushed the thought to the back of her mind and continued her explanation, "Barbara said the necklace is numbered. That means it's one of a kind and can be traced to the jeweler who sold it. I'm going to call Barbara this morning and ask to see the necklace. I'll tell her I fell in love with it and want the jeweler's name and number. Once I have the information, I'll contact the jeweler and verify _when_ , _where_ , and _who_ bought that necklace."

"Great plan." Frank's smile of admiration caused Nancy to blush slightly. "I have some good news, too. Walter's on his way to interview Margie Collins' longtime housekeeper and personal assistant who lives in New York. Maybe she can shed some more light on Donald Kelliher, AKA Chase Westin. I'm going to phone Walter and tell him to mention the necklace. I'll e-mail him this picture so he can show it to the housekeeper."

A shiver trickled down Nancy's spine. "If she identifies it as the same necklace there's only one way it got from Diana's neck to Barbara's." She shuddered again at the very thought and what it meant.

Joe had been staring at the computer scene. He stepped back and said, "This necklace could be the evidence the Chicago detectives have been looking for. It could prove Chase Westin was in Diana's apartment when she was killed."

Frank nodded at his brother. "You're right. One of us should give them a call."

Nancy checked her wristwatch. "It's a little after seven, too early for me to call Barbara."

"Or for me to call Detective Lau and give him all this information," Joe said. "But I can contact the Chicago detectives."

Nancy made a suggestion, "I'm hungry. How 'bout we have breakfast then make our calls." She looked from Joe to Frank. Frank was yawning violently.

Joe pushed in his chair. "I'm all for that."

Frank struggled to his feet. He had logged off his computer and was waiting for it to shut down. Between yawns Frank said, "I'm going to .. to track down Chase Westin after breakfast. One of us needs to keep an eye on him."

"After breakfast you're going to come back here and get some sleep," Joe told his brother in no-uncertain terms.

Frank flinched and glared at Joe. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Yes he can." Nancy crossed her arms defiantly and lifted her chin.

"Huh? What? Hey, you can't -" Frank stammered.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" Nancy wore a no-nonsense expression and her arms were still firmly crossed.

"I … I .. um …"

"That's what I thought. None. No arguments, Frank." Nancy was pointing now for emphasis. "We're a team and we share the workload and we listen to each other. Joe and I can handle things this morning while you get some sleep."

"I … I," Frank muttered weakly as confusion and surprise waged an internal battle.

Joe gripped Frank's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I wouldn't argue if I were you. She looks fit to be tied."

Frank followed Joe's advice and clamped his mouth shut.

After a coffee-free breakfast, he was duly tucked in bed, and within minutes, sleeping soundly.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews. :)_

 _To Smithy: Sorry to hear about your mother. I hope she is improving. I will say a prayer for her. I know what you're going through. My sister was in the hospital earlier this week. She had major surgery, but is home now and recovering nicely._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Detective Lau headed into the breakroom for another cup of coffee, his second of the morning. He was stalling and he knew it. He wasn't ready to face the Thursday morning staff call. He knew full well what the number one topic would be, Gwen Airedale's murder. His murder case.

Chief Webber was hot to have this case solved. Lau was, too. It wasn't Lau's fault things weren't working out as quickly as heand Chief Webber would like. Evidence and suspects didn't always fall into place in one nice, neat, little package. This just happened to be one of those cases.

Lau poured his coffee and pictured Chief Webber standing in front of the chalkboard in the squad room, the bald spot on top of his head shining beneath the fluorescent lights, his white hair forming a horseshoe around his head. The light glinting off Webber's eyeglasses as he scanned faces, checking to see who was there and who wasn't. Webber was a stickler for punctuality. Lau was, too. This obsession the two men shared. Webber's other obsession was departmental money and how it was spent. On this, the two men didn't always see eye-to-eye.

Webber was miserly with departmental funds. He'd once claimed that under his leadership not one penny would be wasted. Quite a lofty claim to make even in the best of times which these were not. It had taken a great deal of persuasion on Lau's part to get Webber to agree to post an armed guard outside of Ms. Sanchez's hospital room. Even then, it was something Webber had agreed to with great reluctance and much grumbling.

With this in mind, Lau stirred cream into his coffee and mentally prepared for his report at the staff call. He knew Webber would call on him first wanting the latest update on the Airedale case. What did Lau have to report? He couldn't think of any good news. Another woman had been attacked two days after Mrs. Airedale. Thankfully, the second woman was alive, but the fact she was still in a coma hindered the investigation. She couldn't give the police any new leads or name suspects.

So what did Lau have? He finished stirring his coffee, tossed the plastic spoon in the trash, and pondered that question. He leaned against the Formica countertop, sipped his coffee, and wished he had something new to report.

Lau looked up when the slender, ultra-young, ultra-polite forensic tech, Ishikawa, entered the breakroom.

"Detective Lau!" An enthusiastic smile broke over the young man's face when he spotted Lau. He pushed up his black eyeglasses. "Detective, sir, I processed those items." Lau's confused stare stripped some of the enthusiasm from Ishikawa's face. "You know, the ones from Ms. Sanchez's apartment."

"What?" Lau barked. He hadn't authorized the processing of any items. That cost money. What items? His card and a fifty dollar bill? Damn. This was the last thing Lau needed to hear right now. Webber would certainly consider this a waste of departmental funds, make no mistake about that. Heads would roll, starting with his.

"Who authorized that?" Lau was steamed and he wasn't about to take the blame.

"D .. D .. , Detective Kim." The enthusiasm had drained completely from Ishikawa's face and his voice held a tinge of apprehension as his dark almond-shaped eyes clouded with fear. Seconds ago he'd been so elated, so convinced Detective Lau would be, too.

"Kim?" Lau placed his coffee on the counter and smacked the countertop with his palm. "He had no right to do that!"

Ishikawa jumped at the sudden display of anger. Flustered, he messed with his glasses, adjusting them needlessly. He'd best say what he had to say and get out of there. Actually, he wished he'd never entered the breakroom. On second thoughts, he had nothing to worry about. It was Detective Kim who was in the hot seat and who would take the blame for this mix-up. Ishikawa had merely followed orders.

"I . I . I found some fingerprints," he stuttered, sounding apologetic.

Lau's head snapped up. "Fingerprints?" What were the chances they were significant? "What are you talking about Ish? Where?" Time was running out. Lau still hadn't figured out what he was going to say at the staff call. Guessing games were the last thing he needed especially from a young, first-year forensic tech who looked like he should still be in high school.

"I, um, the ones, on the fifty dollar bill."

Lau's eyes narrowed and Ishikawa stammered on, "Yeah, you see, there were only a few prints on that, probably because it was so new. Um, well, so anyway, I ran them. All of them. Through IAFIS, the fingerprint database. I, well, I got a hit." Ish took a breath and swallowed hard. He stared at Lau wondering if he should go on.

"And," Lau prompted. This was getting interesting, but he didn't dare get his hopes too high.

Ish's face brightened. "Oh, one print came back registered to a Donald Kelliher."

Lau stared at the tech as if the young man had suddenly lost his mind. "That name means nothing to me, Ish." Irritation and frustration tainted Lau's voice.

"Oh, yeah, right." Ishikawa smiled, his enthusiasm returning. This was the good part. "He hasn't used that name in a while. I, um, I ran his name through the database and it came back with several aliases. He's used lots over the past .. um .. oh, twenty or more years." Seeing Lau's impatience, Ishikawa hurried on, "Yeah, well, um, I cross-checked the names on the list with the names Detective Kim gave me. He said it was a list of potential suspects. Well, I .. I found one that matches." Ishikawa gave the smallest bit of a smile. "I don't know if it's important, but I thought I should bring it to your attention."

"What's the name?" Lau might have something new to report at the staff call after all.

# # # #

"I tried to get a hold of Lau. He's in a meeting," Joe told Nancy. "I left a message. Said we've got a bead on a suspect. I'm sure he'll call me back."

Joe and Nancy stood in the hotel lobby near the fountain with colorful water jets. Considering the events of the past few days the jets had lost some of their charm.

"I'm sure he will," Nancy said. "Here's a list of flights from San Diego, California to Hawaii. I printed two copies for Butch."

"Thanks." Joe took the paper Nancy handed him. "Butch is next on my list of calls. I'll see if he has anything new to report on Rosita. I'll give him this flight info when I talk to him."

Nancy slung her handbag over her shoulder. "I'm off to see Barbara Westin. She sounded excited to show me the necklace."

"Did she mention her husband? Our suspect."

"She did. She said this was a good time for me to drop by because he was out and would be gone for a while. He has a meeting with someone."

"Meeting with someone? I wonder who that could be and why's he meeting with someone?"

"I'm wondering the same things. I'll try to get some answers."

Joe pulled out his cell phone. "As soon as I finish my call with Butch I'll start tracking down Westin. One way or another we'll find him."

"I'll call you as soon as I finish with Barbara Westin."

# # # #

Nancy knocked on the door of room ten-thirty. It was promptly opened by Barbara Westin. She was dressed in a silk Capri outfit.

"Nancy, please come in." Barb ushered Nancy toward a sitting area. "I must say that necklace has generated a lot of attention."

"Really?" Nancy sat in one of two comfortable chairs.

"Yes, last night at dinner." Barb dropped into the chair opposite Nancy. "Lance and Melinda came into the restaurant shortly after you and your friends left. Lance stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. 'That necklace,' he said, 'where did you get it?' His tone shocked me. It was almost accusatory. I told him exactly what I'd told you. The necklace was the first gift my husband ever gave me."

Nancy leaned forward. Lance Airedale's reaction was interesting. Had he remembered seeing Diana Collins wear the necklace at the Christmas Fashion Show? "What did Mr. Airedale say to that?"

"Nothing." Barb appeared dumbfounded. "He just glared at my husband for a moment, which I found very odd and uncalled for, then said, ' _I see_ ' all pompous like and changed the subject."

"That is odd." Nancy was truly bewildered. "What did your husband say about Lance's reaction?"

"He laughed it off. Said the poor man was losing it. Probably wasn't sleeping or eating well by the looks of him. I have to agree. Lance did look frightfully pale and thin. Chase said that was to be expected of course, given everything Lance has been through. _Is_ going through. I mean, he hasn't even buried Gwen yet and he's got this fashion show hanging over his head."

Nancy wondered about Lance's reaction. It was true, the man had a lot to deal with at the moment. "How did Melinda react?"

"I didn't really notice. I was so shocked by Lance's reaction. He and Melinda sat at a table not far from ours and I swear, he stared at me the whole time. It was quite unnerving. I think Melinda was trying to calm him down at one point, but I can't be certain, I was so upset by then. As soon as we finished our meal I told Chase I wanted to leave. I couldn't take one more second of Lance glaring at me like I'd killed his dog or something. Sorry, that's a bad comparison, but the way he looked at me was horrible."

"Did you and your husband talk about this after dinner?"

"Oh, of course. Chase is more logical than me. He insisted we shouldn't read too much into Lance's reaction. My husband's guess was that the necklace somehow reminded Lance of Gwen. It's the only reasonable answer either of us could come up with. Of course, it would be upsetting, being reminded of one's dead wife. Chase is well aware of how devastating the loss of a loved one is. He's lost both his parents.

Barbara settled back in her chair. "You see, when I first met Chase seven years ago, he'd just lost his mother to cancer. Poor Chase, he was such an emotional wreck. There were times when he couldn't even remember his own name. My heart broke for him. I think that's what drew me to him. He was so completely devastated he couldn't even work."

Or wouldn't work, Nancy thought as Barbara continued, "He'd lost his job, was low on funds, and had nowhere to go. His father had passed away two or three years before his mother and Chase told me, he suddenly found himself all alone in the world. I could relate to that, I'd lost both my parents in a car accident the year I graduated from college. I knew first-hand the loneliness one feels at the sudden loss of their parents."

Chase had played his wife quite well, Nancy thought. And he'd conveniently left out the part about having a half-sister. Nancy decided to pursue that question. "Chase doesn't have any siblings? A brother or sister perhaps?"

"No, he was an only child."

"That would certainly make the loss of one's parents all the more poignant. I was wondering, did his mother leave him anything? Perhaps, the necklace?" Nancy eyed a long slender box lying on the coffee table.

Barbara saw the direction of Nancy's gaze and picked up the box. "You are quite clever, Nancy. The necklace did in fact belong to Chase's mother. She gave it to him shortly before she died. It's very special to him of course, and me. He also inherited a nice sum of money, but that was almost two years after his mother's death. We married not long after he got the inheritance."

Barbara opened the box, lifted out the necklace, and handed it to Nancy.

Nancy handled the necklace with great care. She was mesmerized by the bright azure stones. "It's lovely."

"Thank you." Barbara rose. "Would you like some coffee? I'm due for my second cup."

"No, thank you. If you don't mind, I'd like to photograph the necklace and get the registration number if possible." Nancy had explained about wanting to contact the jeweler and see about commissioning him to create a similar necklace for herself.

"Not at all. The number is carved inside the box on the lid and on the silver tag at the clasp."

"Yes, I see it." Nancy smiled, this was just what she needed. While Barb fixed herself a second cup of coffee, Nancy took out her phone and photographed the necklace. She made sure the tag with the registration number was in several of the shots.

Next, she copied down the registration number in her trusty notepad and doubled checked it before returning the necklace to the velvet box. Nancy thanked Barbara for her time and left. Now, all she had to do was trace the number to the jeweler. Maybe the Hardy Detective Agency could help track down the jeweler or at least point her in the right direction.

Nancy walked down the hall, away from Barbara Westin's room, and phoned Joe.

"Joe here."

"Have you spoken to Detective Lau yet?"

No, he hadn't, but he had contacted Butch. According to Butch, there was no change in Rosita's condition. Joe had passed along the flight information for Rosita's mother. Nancy relayed her conversation with Barbara Westin. She was anxious to track down the jeweler and hoped Walter could help. Joe reminded her that Walter, who was assigned to help them on this case, was out of the office today and currently en route to meet Margie Collins' housekeeper. Before Nancy had a chance to express her disappointment, Joe said he would contact the Hardy Detective Agency and see if Maggie was available. If she was, he'd have her contact Nancy directly.

"Thanks a bunch," Nancy said. "You're a lifesaver and so is the Hardy Detective Agency. I don't know what we'd do without them."

"We wouldn't be solving this case as fast," Joe said. "By the way, I haven't spotted Chase Westin anywhere. Did his wife say who he was meeting? Or where he was going?"

"No," Nancy sighed, "but I didn't ask either. I didn't want to make her suspicious."

"Probably a wise move. Well, let me call the agency and have them contact you. Then I'm back to trying to find Chase Westin. He's got to be around here somewhere."

# # # #

Frank opened his eyes and looked at the clock. A few minutes to twelve. He'd gotten four hours of sleep and needed every minute of it. He yawned and rolled out of bed. He wondered what Nancy and Joe were up. Had they discovered anything new?

Frank went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. That brought him fully awake. He brushed his teeth and then called Nancy.

"You should still be sleeping," she curtly informed him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got enough sleep for now and I _**really**_ hate being left out of the loop when there's an on-going case. So, what's happening?"

Nancy understood Frank's feelings. She hated being left out, too. "With a little help from the Hardy Detective Agency I tracked down the jeweler that made _the_ necklace. It did belong to Margie Collins. Her second husband, Harvey, had it made for her when they got married in 1962."

"That's fantastic. We've got our first connection between Diana Collins and Chase Westin. You were right about the necklace, Nan."

"The jeweler is faxing me all his records and receipts pertaining to the necklace. He said he'd look for a photo, too. He felt confident he'd find one. He said he usually took photos of all his special commissions. I'm headed to the hotel's executive office right now to collect the faxes. Oh, and Detective Lau called. That fifty-dollar bill he and Joe found in Rosita's apartment, it has Westin's fingerprints all over it. That means he had contact with Rosita, too."

A huge smile broke over Frank's face. "This just gets better and better. That's good, solid evidence against Westin. We've connected him to two of the three women who were attacked. Now we need to find a connection to Gwen. What's Joe up to?"

"He and Lau are searching for the illusive Chase Westin. Lau showed up here at about ten-thirty this morning. He has an arrest warrant for Westin. Unfortunately, no one's seen him. Lau interviewed Barbara Westin. She claims she hasn't seen her husband since eight o'clock this morning. She says he left their room right after breakfast to meet someone. She has no idea who he was meeting or where."

Frank groaned in exasperation. "He might have flown the coop."

"He might have, but don't worry yet. Lau has issued an APB for him. Plain-clothes officers are stationed at the airport and Lau has put all the rental car companies on alert."

"Sounds like Lau had everything under control. I'm going to get dressed and join the search."

"I'm sure Lau and Joe will appreciate the help. I'm going to get the jeweler's records and receipts and then, per Lau's orders, I'm to join Detective Kim and stay with Barbara Westin. Lau wants us there in case Westin shows up or tries to contact his wife."

# # # #

Joe had searched high and low inside the hotel and out. He'd retraced his steps many times in an effort to locate Chase Westin. Joe was beginning to think Westin had skipped town.

Joe stepped outside into the bright sunshine and trudged through the sand. He shaded his eyes with a hand and squinted. Where in the world could Westin be?

Joe wandered around, checking behind bushes, scanning people on the beach. His wandering took him to the area where he and Frank had found the murder weapon. This area was secluded and quiet. Joe rounded the corner of the hotel and came upon the volcanic outcrop that led down to the ocean. Joe stopped and listened to the crashing waves. The ocean's turbulent nature mirrored Joe's mood. His patience was wearing thin. He was eager to find Westin. The morning had been spent running around in circles, checking and rechecking the same places over and over again.

Joe sucked in a lung full of salty air. This was a beautiful spot, peaceful. He took a few steps and glanced around. Then he froze and his face paled. A body lay on the sand. Slowly and cautiously, Joe made his way toward the person.

"Hey," Joe called as he neared the motionless figure, a man, he could tell that much. "You okay?"

Joe swallowed hard over the lump forming in his throat. A feeling of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. He was beside the body now. "Oh, God. No."

Bile rose in his stomach. There was no mistake. Given the unnatural angle of the neck, the sickly white skin, and the glassy eyes. The man was dead.

Joe stumbled away. Out of all the things he'd expected to encounter this morning this wasn't one of them. He bent over, put his hands on his knees, and panted. He tried to quell the urge to vomit. Think rationally, he told himself. He needed to call Lau. His cell phone chirped and he fumbled with the phone, his fingers refusing to cooperate.

Finally, he got the phone to his ear. He spoke between pants, "Joe .. here."

Frank immediately sensed his brother's distress. "Joe? Something wrong?"

"Umm, yeah. Kinda. Just found a dead guy. At the spot where we found the murder weapon."

"I'm on my way." The phone went dead.

Joe took a deep breath and started to relax. Frank would be there soon. Joe's cell phone chirped again. It startled him so bad he almost dropped the phone.

"Joe, this is Lau. Any luck tracking down our suspect?"

"Yeah, I'm looking at him right now."

"Really? That's great. Don't let him out of your sight."

"Oh, don't worry, he's not going anywhere." Some of Joe's innate playfulness had returned.

Lau picked up on the deeper meaning to the words. "Huh? What do you mean, not going anywhere?"

"It appears our murderer has been murdered."

Lau's jaw dropped in stunned confusion. "What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Kinda hard to mistake a dead guy."

* * *

 _A/N: So, a little twist there at the end. ;)_

 _Special thanks to those faithful reviewers. You know who you are. I'd also like to thank the Guest reviewer for pointing out my mistake with the obituary. I laughed at myself on that one. The things I miss when I edit are amazing._


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Frank came up alongside his brother and Joe pointed to the body lying on the sand near a clump of bushes.

Frank stepped back and looked up at the hotel. Five stories up was a public walkway and balcony. Someone could have pushed Chase from there. With that thought in mind, Frank scanned the sand. Sure enough he saw faint drag marks.

"Look," he said to Joe and pointed at the sand.

"Damn," Joe hissed. He'd walked right through the indentations and hadn't noticed them.

Joe spun around and easily spotted the point of impact. A large depression several feet away from where the body currently lay. Joe shielded his eyes with a hand and looked up at the balcony.

"Westin was pushed off that balcony," Frank said.

Joe lowered his hand and looked at his brother. "Or fell."

"Pushed," Frank said with certainty. "No one moves a body after it falls five stories. They'd call 911, not try and hide it behind a bush."

"Yeah," Joe said. "They didn't finish the job either. Must have been interrupted."

"Might've heard someone coming along the path over there." Frank pointed to his left. "The path Nancy and I tried to follow a few nights ago."

The door by the fire escape stairs opened and Lau strode out. He glanced at the Hardys and then to his right. He immediately saw what had brought them to this spot.

Frank drew Lau's attention with a wave of his hand. "The impact point is over here. And there's drag marks. Looks like whoever pushed Mr. Westin from up above," Frank motioned to the balcony, "tried to move him. Looks like they wanted to hide him behind that bush."

Lau made his way carefully to the brothers. His eyes followed the drag marks back to the point of impact.

Lau stood next to Frank and Joe. He looked up at the hotel. "Quite a long drop." He silently counted the floors. "Five stories. Why not let it look like an accident? Why try to cover it up?"

"Maybe," Joe said, "the killer didn't mean to kill Westin."

Frank gave his brother a doubtful look.

"Hear me out," Joe said. "We know that Westin was meeting someone this morning. The killer I assume. So, let's say they meet. They talk. Things are going okay at first, but then turn ugly. They start fighting. The killer pushes Westin and over he goes. It's accidental. The killer didn't mean to kill Westin. He panics. Comes down here and decides to hide the body."

Frank was shaking his head. "I'm not buying it. The killer met Westin for a very specific reason. We don't know what that reason was, but whatever it was, it clearly made the killer angry, angry enough to kill."

The brothers stared at each other. Frank raked a hand down the side of his face, over his stubble. He hadn't shaved this morning and with the way things were going, he probably wasn't going to shave anytime soon.

Lau was on his phone, off to the side.

"We need to look at the body," Frank said. "See if there are any defensive wounds."

Joe jerked his head toward the police detective. "We better ask Lau first."

Lau ended his call and walked up to the brothers. "Coroner's on the way. We'll see what he has to say about this. I've also got uniforms headed to the balcony to guard it until the forensic team arrives."

All three men slowly tipped their heads back and looked up at the balcony.

Frank had an idea about what might have happened up there. First though, he needed to ask the coroner a question … or two.

# # # #

Night fell on the Big Island of Hawaii and with it came a foreboding sense of melancholy. The discovery of another body at the _Aloha Hilton_ had undone Mr. Gaulter. He'd collapsed in his office when his secretary delivered the news. The poor secretary had stood there, horrified and helpless, as she watched his huge body sink to the floor. There was no humanly way she could possibly stop that massive hulk from going down and didn't try. She'd kept her wits about her and immediately called 911.

From his hospital bed, Gaulter watched the evening news, something he shouldn't be doing considering his blood pressure, the reason he was in the hospital. But it was like a train wreck, he couldn't turn away. He felt compelled to watch. He had to hear what they were saying about _his_ hotel. It was the lead story.

To Gaulter's chagrin, the news commentators made tasteless jokes about the hotel as they led into the story. The older commentator said, "So Wayne, our big story tonight is the _Aloha Hilton_ , a new five-star hotel on the Big Island. People say it's a place where guests check-in, but they don't check-out."

"They do check-out," Wayne corrected his older partner. "They check-out permanently!" Both men turned and smiled at the camera.

Gaulter groaned. He wanted to punch both men in the mouth.

If he only knew, the police and three young detectives were taking the situation much more seriously.

Nancy, Frank, and Joe sat in the _Sunrise Café._ They were tired and downcast. A long afternoon of interviewing hotel guests and suspects, coupled with lengthy discussions with the forensic team and coroner, had drained their spirits and energy.

Nancy and Frank refilled their coffee cups. Joe finished his second glass of water. The remains of their evening meal, they'd skipped lunch, had just been cleared away by the waitress.

Joe set his empty glass on the table. "What a day. I can't believe we're looking for another killer. Who'd have thought that would happen?"

He looked at Nancy and then his brother. Frank had the shadow of a beard and dark circles under his eyes.

"No one," Nancy said. She lifted her coffee cup and cradled it in both hands, absorbing its warmth. "Barbara Westin was devastated. I'm not sure which hit her harder, the fact her husband was a killer, or the fact he was murdered. I'm glad Kate and Paula agreed to spend the night with her. She shouldn't be alone, not at a time like this."

Joe nodded at his brother. "You've been awfully quiet this evening. Something bothering you?"

Frank frowned which made him appear even more haggard. He chose his words carefully, "I've been thinking about what the coroner said in his preliminary report."

When Frank didn't elaborate, Joe prodded, "Well, what's that? We can't read your mind and not all of us had a chance to read the report."

Joe hated it when he had to pull information out of his brother. There were times when Frank got tunnel-vision and so wrapped up in a theory – thinking it out, weighing the possibilities – that it was like he was stuck in a different world. Then again, Frank's mind might not be firing on all its cylinders given his lack of sleep. Joe doubted that was the reason, Frank was sharp no matter how little rest he got.

"Umm, I .. I was." Frank thought for a moment more then said, "I was thinking about Westin's Adam's apple and the fact it was crushed."

Joe stared at Frank. Joe wondered what on earth was going on inside that analytical brain. "How about the fact his neck was snapped clean in two or the fact he was probably dead before he hit the ground?"

"Those, too. Seems to me the killer hated Westin and meant to kill him. The killer acted out of rage. Gives weight to the theory that the killer arranged the meeting with the sole intention of killing Westin."

"I think we all can agree on that. So, what's really bothering you?" Joe studied Frank's face.

"Out of our remaining suspects, who fits this type of attack?" Frank gazed into the distance. He was speaking more to himself than the others.

"Given what Barbara Westin told Nancy this morning, I'd say Lance Airedale looks like a pretty good suspect. He was upset last night, almost to the point of rage, when he saw Barbara wearing Diana's necklace. Airedale had motive and opportunity and he doesn't have an airtight alibi for this morning." Joe looked at Nancy.

"I have to agree," she said reluctantly and thought of Bess. Bess hadn't liked hearing her boss was yet again the prime suspect in a murder case.

However, the fact Lance was the prime suspect had kept the trio on the case and working for Lance, trying to prove his innocence.

When the police questioned Lance earlier that day, he had loudly proclaimed he had nothing to do with Chase's death. He'd also loudly proclaimed he felt no remorse at the man's death.

He'd spat out, "In my opinion, he got exactly what he deserved! Good riddance."

Tonight, Bess was having dinner with Melinda in Lance Airedale's suite. Lengthy interrogations by the police had put the women behind schedule in their preparations for tomorrow's fashion show. They still had several last minute details to iron out before morning. Therefore, they were having a 'working dinner.'

Frank drained his coffee and announced, "I have to check on something and do some research. I'll be in my room." He rose and Nancy and Joe stared at him, startled by his abruptness.

"And what are we supposed to do?" Joe asked gesturing at himself and Nancy.

Frank gave Joe a puzzled look. "Whatever you want. I'm working on a plan. I'll call you guys when I get it figured out." He was gone before Joe could say another word.

Joe slumped in his chair. "Well, how do you like those apples?"

"I don't." Nancy looked none too pleased. "I wish he'd at least given us a clue as to what he's trying to figure out."

"Me, too," Joe sighed.

Nancy rested an elbow on the table. "Something's bugging me."

"What's that?"

"Why did Westin kill Gwen? We know why he killed Diana."

"The inheritance money," Joe said.

"Yes, and he attacked the maid because he feared she might tell the police she'd given him her pass key. But why kill Gwen?"

Nancy sipped her coffee and grimaced. It was lukewarm. Lukewarm coffee did not promote clear, logical thinking. She returned the cup to the table and contemplated Gwen's murder.

Joe broke the silence, "Gwen had to have been a threat to Westin."

"She knew something or saw something that made her a liability."

Joe fixed his blue eyes on Nancy. "Do you think she knew Westin killed Diana?"

Nancy took a deep breath and considered. "That seems the most likely answer, but we need to prove it."

"Didn't you and Frank go over Diana and Gwen's files?"

"We did, but neither file connected the women to Westin." Nancy drummed her fingers on the table for a second then said, "Okay, let's concentrate on what we _do_ know. One, Gwen and Westin both lived in Chicago at the time of Diana's murder. Two, both Gwen and Westin had connections to the fashion industry. Gwen was a designer, Chase Westin worked as a model, at least sporadically."

Joe put his forearms on the table and leaned forward. "When you think about it, the odds are good that the two of them crossed paths at some point."

"Exactly. And perhaps, Gwen and Westin were more than casual acquaintances. Maybe they dated for a while. Maybe they were serious about one another."

"If Gwen and Westin were a couple," Joe lowered his voice, "Gwen could very easily have known that he murdered Diana. That would make her an accessory after the fact to the murder."

"That's a chilling thought." Nancy rubbed her arms. Goosebumps had formed and she suddenly felt very cold. "I'd hate to think Gwen had anything to do with Diana's murder, but you're right, it's a possibility. Actually, now that you've mentioned it, I think there's a very real possibility Gwen _knew_ Westin murdered Diana and she never reported it. I can see that scenario quite easily and we have some evidence to support it."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact, Gwen wanted to be hidden. Kate Mansville told me that. Actually, all the wives said that. They said, Gwen never left Lance's side and didn't socialize much. Gwen liked to stay in the background. You have to ask yourself, who was Gwen hiding from?"

"Chase Westin," Joe bit off the words. Then his eyes widened as a new thought dawned. "Didn't Lance tell us Gwen seemed frightened that first night here in Hawaii and didn't want to be left alone?"

"That's right." Nancy was thunderstruck. "Gwen must've spotted Westin in the hotel earlier that day. Once she saw him she knew it was only a matter of time before he spotted her. She knew then she was in danger and couldn't tell her husband. Not without implicating herself. Gwen had to have been terrified. She knew what Westin was capable of."

"This theory makes a lot of sense, but we need to prove it."

Nancy thought for a moment. "There has to be a connection between Gwen and Westin. We just have to find it."

"What was the name of that other design place Gwen worked at?"

Nancy immediately guessed what Joe was thinking. " _Frazer and Frazer Designs_. If Gwen and Westin worked together in the past that's the most likely place. Gwen worked there as a fashion designer for three years. Westin could easily have worked there, off and on, as a model."

Joe was nodding. "They could've met during a photo shoot or a fashion show."

Nancy smiled. "Maybe the Chicago detectives working Diana's case can help us. They know the alias Westin was using at the time of Diana's death. We can tell them our theory and let them check the name and employment history of Mr. Chase Westin. I bet they'll find he worked for _Frazer and Frazer_ as a model at the same time as Gwen worked there."

"With any luck, they might find some co-workers who remember seeing Gwen and Westin together. Gwen might've had a friend back then that she confided in."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed." Nancy held up a hand with crossed fingers.

Joe's cell phone buzzed and he checked it. "Looks like I have to leave you."

"Oh? Can I ask why?"

"My date's ready." Joe winked and gave Nancy a smile. Then he typed a message on his phone.

"When in the world have you had time to find a date?" Nancy's eyes were wide and curious.

"It's Bess." Joe gave Nancy a look that said, who else would it be? "She's finished with her meeting with Melinda. Bess and I made a pact to try and enjoy some of Hawaii while we're here. A stroll on the beach qualifies as enjoying." He got to his feet and pocketed his phone. "You and Frank should try it sometime."

"Been there, done that. We ran into a murderer." Nancy smiled up at Joe. "Be careful. A killer's still on the loose."

"Will do. Don't stay up too late, Nan." Over his shoulder, Joe said, "See you in the morning. We'll contact the Chicago detectives then."

Nancy watched Joe's broad backside as he hurried out of sight. At that moment she envied him and Bess, but she was happy for them, too. They were making time to enjoy Hawaii.

The group had two days left on the island. Two days! Nancy groaned. Time was slipping away. She and the Hardys had to work fast if they were going to catch this new killer.

Nancy left the café a few minutes later. She had no idea she was being watched.

The new killer was meticulous and methodical. He left no detail to chance. This killer was already one step ahead of Nancy, Frank, and Joe. And he had set in motion a plan that would leave one member of the team dead.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the reviews, Folks! Glad I could surprise you with that little twist at the end. ;) Also, thanks for not putting spoilers in your reviews._


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Friday morning, the day of the fashion show. Nancy, Frank, and Joe were once again seated in the _Sunrise Café_. In between bites of scrambled eggs, Joe phoned the Chicago detectives working the Diana Collins case. He told them Chase Westin had been murdered. The detectives were stunned by the news, but equally intrigued by Nancy and Joe's theory regarding Chase Westin and Gwen Hughes Airedale. The fact the two murder victims might have been friends and possibly worked together at _Frazer and Frazer Designs_ was a new angle for the detectives to explore. The detectives rang off and promised to call with any information they uncovered.

After breakfast the trio gathered in the Hardys' hotel room. Nancy sat at the glass table, Joe sat on the edge of the bed, and Frank stood. He was ready to unveil his plan.

"Last night I dug through the backgrounds and life histories of our suspects. Based on what I uncovered, I believe I know who our killer is. Of course, this is just a guess. I don't have any hard evidence. That's why we have to corner him and hopefully get him to confess."

Joe looked doubtful.

Frank continued, "Everything in his past indicates he has a high regard for honor and integrity. I think we can use that knowledge against him. If we confront him and appeal to his innate sense of honor, he might confess."

Joe shook his head. "You really think he'll come right out and confess?"

"He might," Frank said, but doubt had slipped into his voice. "Our killer's been a leader, he's earned people's respect. His whole career's been built on honor, duty, teamwork, and integrity. Those things are very important to him."

"But now he's murdered someone," Joe responded hotly. "In my opinion, he doesn't have any of that anymore. He's crossed a line."

Frank nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't argue with you there. But we have to remember, Chase Westin's murder was committed in a moment of blind rage. The killer wasn't thinking clearly. I'm betting the killer now regrets what he did. If forced to face what he did, he might confess."

Joe wasn't convinced. "He was thinking clear enough to crush Westin's throat and push him off a balcony."

Frank grimaced at the image Joe's words conjured up. "Like I said, he was in a blind rage. And we're running out of time. Once the fashion show ends today there's nothing keeping our killer here. Most people are leaving tomorrow. Today's our last chance to catch the killer. We have to act fast."

Well, that was certainly true, Joe thought.

Frank pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "Last night Nancy and I came up with a plan to confront the killer. We're going to need your help, Joe."

Joe got off the bed and took a seat at the table. "I'm all ears."

"Nancy's going to call the killer and invite him to her room," Frank said. "She'll say she knows what he did and she wants to help him."

Nancy said, "We figured the killer will be more likely to agree to meet me than either of you. Being a woman, I present less of a threat."

"Once she has him alone," Frank said, "she'll appeal to his honesty and remind him of his moral obligation."

Joe wasn't sure he liked what he was hearing. "This all sounds risky. Your so-called plan puts Nancy in a lot of danger. Don't forget our killer had no trouble taking down Westin."

"The element of surprise worked in the killer's favor," Frank said. "Westin had no clue he was walking into a trap."

Nancy smiled. "This time, the killer will be walking into our trap. And we're taking precautions. I'll be wearing a wire. Detective Kim dropped it off this morning. And Frank will be right outside my door."

"I'll be listening in on her conversation," Frank said. "The minute she gets the killer to confess, or if she encounters any trouble, I'll come in. If I sense anything wrong before that, I'll be inside in a flash." He pulled a keycard out of his shorts' pocket. "Gaulter's secretary gave me a key to Nancy's room this morning."

Joe still wasn't convinced. "I'm not sure I like this plan." He was astonished that for once, he was the one being cautious and reasonable. "A lot can go wrong."

"True," Frank admitted. "No plan survives contact with the enemy. But there is a little more to our plan." Frank spent the next ten minutes filling Joe in on the remaining details. He ended with, "We're counting on you for that extra backup."

"You got it," Joe said with a gleam in his eyes and got to his feet. "When's show time?"

Frank looked at his watch. It was nine a.m.

"Eleven o'clock," Frank said. "That gives us plenty of time to get ready." He grabbed his pocket knife and cell phone off the bedside table. His cell phone buzzed surprising him.

"It's Melinda Smith," he told the others and put the phone to his ear. "Frank Hardy here. Yes. We're in the middle of something. Yes. Okay. Be there in a few minutes."

He ended the call and looked at Joe and Nancy. "Melinda says they need Joe and me to help move some things for the fashion show. Apparently, they're short-handed. Melinda said a lot of the local help canceled this morning after hearing about the latest murder."

Joe was suspicious. "I find this a little weird, Melinda asking for our help. She and Lance know we're working on the case. Helping them will pull us away from the case."

Frank thought it over and said, "It does strike me as odd, too. I say we give them a hand. It shouldn't take long to move a few things. Melinda said they're running out of time and options." As are we, he thought and turned to Nancy. "I'll call you when we're finished. We're still set for eleven."

"I'll be ready," Nancy said.

# # # #

Frank and Joe met up with Melinda and Bess. The brothers, and their muscles, were put to work moving several large stage components and lighting equipment. Melinda had been right, it didn't take long. The brothers were finished in an hour. They were also hot and sweaty.

Frank wiped his forehead with a paper towel. "I need some water. How 'bout you?"

Joe wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "I have a few things to take care of. I'll catch up with you later." He turned to go, then suddenly stopped and spun around. "Hey, be extra careful."

"I will." Frank's face was solemn and the brothers exchanged an unspoken message. Frank hadn't shown it earlier, but he was extremely concerned for Nancy and her safety.

Their plan to catch the killer had been made in haste and desperation. With only one day left, he and Nancy had figured it was the fastest way to solve this case and bring a killer to justice. Now that Frank had a moment to reflect, he hoped his intuition was right. He hoped the killer _was_ a man of honor.

Frank remembered seeing a drinking fountain in a nearby hallway and headed that way.

After several gulps of icy water Frank made a quick stop in the Men's room and splashed water on his face. Finally, he stepped back into the hallway and phoned Nancy.

It was twenty to eleven.

When she answered, he said, "You still want to go through with the plan?"

"Yes, I'm all set." She sounded confident.

"Okay, we're on. I'll be in place in fifteen minutes."

He hung up and mentally prepared himself. It was show time. Do or die time.

"Hardy!"

Frank turned at the sound of his name. Two of the three new guards Melinda had hired were walking toward him. Bess had pointed them out at the luau.

Frank's brow settled into a menacing frown as they neared. What did these two want? "Yeah?"

The taller guard was about the same height as Frank and thirty pounds heavier. He looked like he could do a circuit on a pro-wrestling tour.

He walked up, got in Frank's personal space, and pointed. "You're Frank Hardy, right?"

"Yeah." Frank didn't like the way either guard was eyeing him.

The taller one had a big lumpy nose. Looked like it had been in a few too many fights. The barest hint of a smirk played at the corners of the man's lips and his eyes were locked on Frank with the intensity of laser beams.

The other guard was short and built like the Tasmanian Devil. All chest and shoulders. His hands were on his belt. He was scanning the hallway like he was on the lookout for guests.

This was a secluded hall, frequented by janitors and maids, not guests.

The tall guard rubbed his lumpy nose with a big, rough hand. "We have a message for you."

A sense of unease crept up Frank's spine and every nerve went on alert. His eyes narrowed to obsidian slits as he glanced from one guard to the other. The shorter guard had a strained expression and seemed jumpy, kind of like a kid about to rob a candy store.

Frank tensed and curled his hands into loose fists. "What's the message?"

"This!"

A fist plowed into Frank's stomach and drove the air out of his lungs.

 _Sucker-punched!_

The sick feeling of nausea doubled him over and he struggled to catch a breath.

Two sets of hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him down the hall. The toes of his tennis shoes squeaked as he was pulled along the linoleum floor.

Frank fought the urge to vomit. The guard's blow had been well-placed and hard. A little higher and it would have broken a rib. Frank sucked in a deep breath and jerked free of his attackers. He fell on his hands and knees and scrambled to his feet.

The surprised guards turned to attack. Frank was ready. He brought his knee to his chest and kicked out like he was knocking down a door. The kick was rushed and lacked power. He kicked the tall guard in the upper thigh. Not the target Frank was aiming for. He wanted the groin. Still, the tall guard stumbled backwards.

Frank turned and snapped a left jab at the short guard. The blow caught Shorty in the side just above the liver. Jabs were great punches. No wind-up needed. Sharp delivery and sharp recovery.

Shorty went down, sucking air.

Frank turned back to the big guard. The big man was unfazed and ready for more. He launched a straight right at Frank's face. Frank dodged the massive paw and countered with a right hook that landed on the guard's shoulder. The guard let loose with a stream of rapid-fire jabs. This guy was no dummy. He was big and strong, and appeared to have some boxing experience. His jabs were fast and accurate.

Frank backed off. He'd gone from offense to defense. Not good. He dodged as many jabs as he could. A glancing blow sent his head reeling.

Shorty was up and rubbing his chest, ready to join the fray.

Now, it was two against one and these guys knew what they were doing. Frank held his own for a while. Got in a couple of good punches. Then the tall guard came to an epiphany, this fight had gone on far too long. With Herculean effort, he summoned all his strength, along with two-hundred-thirty pounds of weight, and landed a straight right square on Frank's jaw.

Frank literally saw stars before everything went black.

# # # #

Nancy paced her hotel room. The bedside clock told said it was exactly eleven o'clock. She stopped pacing, checked that the wire under her blouse was secure, and held up her phone. It was time to make the call. Frank should be in place and ready. She dialed and waited. The other phone was answered after three rings.

"Hello."

"This is Nancy Drew. We need to talk about Diana Collins' murder. Could you meet me in my room?"

A pause and then, "I'll be right there." Click.

Nancy stood there stunned. He hadn't even asked for her room number. She started to doubt herself and the plan. No, she thought, Frank and Joe were counting on her. They were in place and waiting. Frank would burst in if anything went wrong.

She went back to pacing. It settled her nerves.

A soft knock at the door sent a shiver down her spine. That was fast.

She let out a calming breath and pressed a tiny button on the wire. It started recording. She squared her shoulders, walked to the door, and opened it.

* * *

 _A/N: Another thank you to those who have left a review. I know you guys are going to yell at me for ending this chapter where I did. If I say I'm sorry will you believe me? No, didn't think so. Hope to post the next chapter soon! :)_


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Nancy looked up into the face of the killer. "Mr. Mansville. Come in. You were quicker than I expected."

"I was in the area." Mansville smiled at her, a fatherly smile, and stepped into the room.

Nancy closed the door behind John Mansville.

He pushed up his wire-rim glasses and asked, "Anyone else here?"

"No, it's just you and me." Nancy watched Mansville's eyes dart around the room.

He turned to his left and surveyed the bathroom area. He pointed toward the shower/toilet area. "Anyone in there?"

"No," Nancy said softly.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I check for myself." He didn't wait for an answer. He crossed into the small shower/toilet area and yanked back the shower curtain. He exited the bathroom and peered at the sliding glass doors. "You wouldn't happen to have someone hidden behind the drapes would you?"

Nancy didn't bother answering since it was clear he didn't expect her to. He crossed the room quickly and looked behind the drapes.

His actions did not come as a surprise to Nancy. Frank had filled her in on Mansville's military background. He was a retired Army Colonel who'd served two tours in Vietnam. He'd received one of the Army's highest awards for his wartime service.

Mansville had served in the Army's elite Special Forces and that said a lot about him both physically and mentally. Very few men make it through the intense, rigorous, training required to become a Green Beret. Mansville had received specialized training in reconnaissance, hand-to-hand combat, and unconventional warfare, not to mention a course on ways to kill people.

Westin's crushed Adam's apple and snapped neck had been red flags to Frank and he'd spent the previous night finding out everything he could about Special Forces. The Army wisely didn't publicize much about their training, so Frank had called his father who was able to put him in touch with a retired Special Forces sergeant. The sergeant had confirmed Frank's suspicions, but had also driven home the point that honor, loyalty, and integrity were not just words to a Green Beret, they were the very tenets they based their lives and service upon. A break with any one of these tenets would be tantamount to a Dishonorable Discharge, the worse disgrace a service member could receive. It was after hearing this that Frank had formulated his plan for getting Mansville to confess. When Nancy heard about Mansville's background and Frank's plan she'd suggested she be the one to call Mansville and get him to confess. Frank had reluctantly agreed.

Back in the here and now, Mansville opened the sliding glass doors and walked out onto the small balcony and looked around. A second later he reentered the room. He left the doors open and a damp ocean breeze wafted through the doors. The cloud covered sky indicated rain was on the way.

Nancy folded her arms. "Looking for anyone in particular?"

Mansville didn't beat around the bush. "Let's not play games, Miss Drew. We both know why you asked me here."

Nancy gave Mansville a long lingering look. Ever the distinguished gentleman he was dressed in blue shorts and a white silk shirt that set off his tan nicely. The glint of a heavy gold chain around his neck caught Nancy's eye as did the diamond-studded wristwatch. He appeared to be sizing her up as well and she decided to come right to the point. "I asked you here to talk about Diana Collins."

They were standing next to the glass table and chairs. Mansville pulled out a chair and dropped into it. "Yes, you mentioned that on the phone. You'll have to enlighten me, what's there to talk about?"

Nancy stepped behind a chair and rested her hands on the top of its back. "It's simple, you don't have an alibi for the morning of Chase Westin's murder." She watched his face hoping a stray expression might betray his emotions. To her disappointment his face remained impassive.

"Do I need one?"

"Yes, I think you do. All of our suspects can be accounted for, except for you."

Mansville leaned back in the chair. "I'm a suspect? Says who?"

"Detective Lau. Detective Kim. Frank, Joe, .. and me."

Mansville's steel-blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Care to tell me where you were and what you were doing the morning Chase Westin was pushed off a balcony?"

"No." There was a hardness in his voice.

"You see Mr. Mansville there's actually quite a lot of evidence against you. Frank had his suspicions from the first time he interviewed you. He noticed the abrupt change in your demeanor when he mentioned Diana's murder. He said you became agitated, angry. He felt positive you were hiding something." Nancy paused looking to see what, if any, affect her words had. Mansville's jaw was set in a hard, tight line.

Nancy continued, her gaze never straying from Mansville's face. "I brushed Frank's observations aside until I noticed you staring at Barbara Westin at dinner that night, the night she wore the blue necklace. I saw anger in your eyes that evening and I wondered why. What had made you so mad? It was later, when I realized the necklace belonged to Diana that I finally put two and two together." She paused, letting her words sink in.

Her visitor remained silent .. and calm. Perhaps too calm.

"Unwittingly," Nancy said picking up the thread of her story, "Barbara had revealed Diana's killer to you. It must have been painful for you to look at that necklace, knowing the killer was sitting right there .. across the table from you .. eating dinner with you."

Mansville cleared his throat and spoke, "Ahem, you weren't there, but Lance had quite a reaction to the sight of that necklace, too. If not for Melinda, I believe Lance would've strangled Westin right at the table. I don't know why you're looking at me for this murder, Lance has a motive. I don't."

"You both do," Nancy corrected him. "You see, it all comes down to the morning of Chase Westin's murder. Like I said before, everyone has an alibi for the time of his death. Except for you. Paula and Parker James were having breakfast together in their suite. Lance and Melinda were with Bess, and several models, working on last minute details for the fashion show. I was with Barbara Westin looking at the necklace. So, that leaves you. I spoke with your wife this morning and she claims you were gone that morning, well before she woke, and that you left a note saying you wouldn't be back until noon. For the record, she said you returned shortly before twelve."

"Well, then it's my wife's word against mine." Mansville smiled and got to his feet. "I say I was with her that morning. It's up to you and the detectives to prove who's lying."

"Actually, we don't need to prove it either way. It's much easier to check your cell phone. You had to call Westin to arrange the meeting with him. That means there's a record of the call."

That sparked a flicker of fear and anger in Mansville's eyes.

Nancy continued, "The police are on their way now with a search warrant for your phone and phone records."

Mansville pushed in his chair and lowered his head. "You think that if I committed this murder I'd be stupid enough to use my own cell phone?"

"Maybe." Nancy sensed she'd touched a nerve. Time to touch a few more. "Diana must have meant something to you. She must have been very special .."

"You have no idea." His voice was low and strained.

Nancy kept an eye on the board shouldered man standing less than two feet away. In spite of being sixty years old, he was in remarkably good shape.

Nancy's grip on the back of the chair tightened. "Then explain it to me, Mr. Mansville. How does a person go from receiving one of the Army's highest honors, the _Distinguished Service Cross_ , to murdering someone?"

That hit home. His steel-blue eyes narrowed to thin slits. "You've done your homework I see. Looking into my background."

"Actually, it was Frank. He's very thorough. Your service record speaks volumes about you. It's a career most people could only dream of. You served in the best of the best, the Green Berets. You were highly decorated. You earned the respect and trust of the men serving under you. You saved lives. There are many who would envy such a prestigious career. You have a lot to be proud of."

"Green Berets," he said and calmly looked around the room. "Twenty-five years. I still know a few tricks."

"Like how to snap a person's neck," Nancy's voice was low and soft.

A small smile of pride lifted the corners of Mansville's mouth and touched his eyes. "Yes, like that. I'll admit, I did approach Westin with caution. He's a little younger than me, but," a shrug and a sigh, "so full of himself. Such a fool. He thought he was going to kill me." A flicker of pride. "Guess I showed him, didn't I?" The smile dropped from his face and anger filled his voice. "Westin was so _damned_ arrogant. I can't say I'm sorry about .. about what I did. He took something from me .." He didn't finish. He couldn't finish. He glared into the distance remembering a past only he could see.

"Diana Collins?" Nancy suggested.

"Yes." Mansville stepped toward Nancy. "He killed her. So, I killed him."

Those were the words Nancy needed to hear.

Mansville took another step. "I say let sleeping dogs lie. Justice has been served."

Nancy backed away from Mansville, her back brushed the wall.

Another step brought him within an arm's length of her. "I have to kill you," he said matter-of-factly. "You do see that, don't you? I've confessed to you."

Nancy was pressed into the corner behind the glass table. He reached for her and she knocked his hand away. "Stay back." She brought her arms up in a defensive posture.

Mansville shook his head. "You may be better trained than Westin. Might have more skills, but believe me, you're not leaving this room alive."

I wouldn't count on that, Nancy thought as she tensed. Mansville lunged for her. She used the wall to brace herself and delivered a swift, hard kick to his sternum. It sent him twisting to the side, arms flailing, trying to maintain his balance. Nancy seized the opportunity and dove for the bed. She planned to crawl across it and run to the door.

She got to the bed and was almost across it when a hand slammed into her back. The next thing she knew she was being crushed into the sheets. Her right arm was trapped beneath her and a knee was pressed into her hips. An elbow ground into her spine sending pricks of pain up and down her back. A strong hand clamped around the back of her neck and held her head firmly face-down.

She wiggled and writhed, tried to punch Mansville with her free left arm. He avoided the weak blows, grabbed the arm, and twisted it behind her back. Then he pushed her face deeper into the bed, cutting off her air. She squirmed and struggled, desperate for air.

He bent over her and put his mouth close to her ear. The edge of his glasses touched her cheek. His breath was hot against her neck. "Okay, let's take it slow and easy. If you want to breathe you're going to stop fighting. Is that understood?"

Nancy stopped moving. She had no choice, she needed air. Hopefully, he would keep his promise. Mansville had surprised her. He'd recovered quickly from her kick and in seconds had had her pinned. She wouldn't take him for granted again. He was strong and she had a newfound respect for him and her precarious situation.

He eased off the pressure and she managed a quick breath. Okay, Frank could show up now and she wouldn't complain one bit.

Mansville bent over her again and twisted her left arm painfully while his knee ground into her hips. She bit back a cry of pain.

It was as if he'd read her mind. What he said next chilled her to the bone. "Oh, and if you're counting on Frank showing up … don't. He's been taken care of."

Oh God. No. They really had underestimated Mansville.

"Don't fret. He's not dead." Pride slipped into Mansville's voice again. "No need to kill him. I didn't confess to him."

Nancy choked out, "There's no reason to kill me. Think about your career, your honor −"

"This isn't about honor, my career, or what's right or wrong," he growled into her ear. "This is about hate and revenge. Tell me, how do you think Frank will react when he finds out I've killed you? You think he'll sit back and let the justice system handle things? Dole out a petty punishment? I don't think so. He'll want revenge, the _ultimate_ revenge. He won't care about the consequences. That's right, Miss Drew. Morals, respect, decency; none of those things mean a damn when someone you love is taken from you. Murdered senselessly. All you want is the guilty person to pay. To pay for what they did. It's all you think about. It consumes you. Frank will suffer a fate worse than death. His hate will slowly eat him alive."

Mansville crushed Nancy against the bed. Her situation was dire. Frank wasn't coming to her rescue. Still, she was worried about him. He was alive she reminded herself. Mansville had said Frank was alive.

# # # #

Frank woke with a splitting headache and blurred vision. Not surprising given the knock-out blow he'd received. He was gagged and bound to a metal chair. A dull ache pulsed in his gut and his jaw throbbed like a jackhammer. He tried to think, but the drumming in his head made the effort difficult.

He blinked slowly and his vision cleared. He took stock of his surroundings. The odd assortment of furniture – tables, chairs, mattresses, and lamps – stacked along the walls, told him he was in a storage room. More chairs, identical to the one he was tied to, were stacked in one corner of the large room. A forest of Christmas trees took up another corner. Strand after strand of Christmas lights and decorations were stacked in neat piles next to the trees. A long fluorescent light, that the guards probably forgot to turn off, shone down on him.

As to his situation, a rope encircled his chest and arms and the chair's back. His ankles were bound to the chair's legs. The back and seat of the chair were cushioned, not that that afforded Frank much comfort. He pushed against the ropes. Gauged how tight they were. Tight enough, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe if he kept pushing and twisted side to side, he could loosen the ropes. With enough slack he could free an arm. His hands were not tied together. That careless mistake offered him the chance of freedom.

He twisted and squirmed. Strained every muscle against the ropes. He grunted and groaned into the gag. He wondered how long he had been there, all tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Nancy's meeting with John Mansville sprang to his mind. Nancy's safety depended on him being there to protect her. If he didn't free himself soon, she would be facing Mansville alone.

If she wasn't already.

Panic skidded along his spine and beads of sweat dotted his brow. He struggled violently against the ropes. He had to get out of there and fast. All he needed was one arm free, then he could get to his cell phone holstered on his belt and the pocketknife tucked in his pocket.

He wiggled and squirmed and silently hoped that Joe had picked up on his unspoken message.

Everything was in Joe's hands now.

# # # #

It was five minutes after eleven. Joe was in the hotel lobby staring at his cell phone. Frank had failed to check-in at eleven. That could only mean one thing. Trouble. Trouble with a capital T.

Joe scanned the hotel lobby. He was pretty sure he knew exactly what the trouble was, too. He glanced over his left shoulder and saw the tall guard with the lumpy nose saunter past .. again.

 _Not too subtle are you, big fellow_ , Joe thought. _I picked up on the fact you and your little buddy were following me ten minutes ago. I also have a feeling you're the reason Frank's not answering his phone._

Joe's brow creased into a concerned frown. If Frank was out of commission that meant Nancy had no backup.

It was time to put _Joe's_ plan into action.

* * *

 _A/N: Gotta love Joe. :)_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"Let's take it nice and slow," Mansville said.

He twisted Nancy's left arm behind her back. Put tension on the wrist and elbow joints, and eased her off the bed. As he pulled her up he grabbed her other arm and brought it behind her back.

He forced her left arm up, higher on her back. The pain was excruciating. Nancy stifled a moan and bent forward, a hollow attempt to relieve the pain and pressure. A little more pressure and she'd have torn ligaments or a stress fracture. Then where would she be? Crippled and defenseless. She had to go along with him until she saw an opening or a chance to attack.

He applied more pressure to the left arm and she cried out.

"Just in case you were thinking of trying something," he said and propelled her through the sliding glass doors and onto the small balcony.

Tears stung her eyes and a wounded sob escaped her gritted teeth. She squinted at the gray ominous clouds blanketing the sky. The air was thick with humidity and held the promise of rain. Seven floors below stretched the beach. Due to the weather, few bathers were out today and those that were out were oblivious to the drama unfolding on a small balcony high above them. Nancy thought about screaming and decided against it. By the time someone spotted her, if they did, it would be too late. She was in a vulnerable position. Mansville could break her arm in a second.

She needed to focus all her energy on defending herself, on buying some time. Backup was on the way. Wasn't it?

A morsel of fear surfaced. She didn't dare let it get a foothold. It would be her undoing if she did.

Mansville released her and her left arm fell limp at her side. It had suffered the most abuse. Mansville spun her around and shoved her against the balcony's metal railing. The top rail slammed into the small of her back. One good push and she'd be over and plummeting to her death.

Her left arm was on fire. She wanted to rub it and work out the pain. She didn't get the chance. His hands were around her neck and in absolute horror, she realized he intended to strangle her.

She fought for her life. She punched him, kicked him, and clawed his arms. These tactics bought her small bits of relief. Each time Mansville had to shift position or dodge a punch his grip on her neck weakened.

However, Nancy knew as well as he, that she was no match for him physically. His size and strength gave him the upper hand in this battle. She had to topple him, get him on the ground. She tried working her foot behind his leg in the hopes of doing just that, but he widened his stance and tightened the grip on her neck.

His eyes burned into hers and his voice was harsh, "It's over. Do yourself a favor and give up."

Desperation brought an idea. "You're … him," Nancy choked out as dark spots danced before her eyes. "You're .. worse .. than .. Westin." The last word trailed off as she wavered on the edge of oblivion.

The vise-like grip around her neck weakened.

"Noooo," he growled through clenched teeth. A vein throbbed on his temple and the muscles in his neck bulged as he glared at her.

"You killed him .. then became him." She was lightheaded. The stranglehold was loose and she snatched a breath.

"Nooo!" he seethed and tightened his grip again.

Anger, and the will to survive, welled up inside of Nancy. It spurred her on. Nancy Drew was not going down without a fight. She wiggled her hips away from Mansville. He didn't notice, he was too intent on squeezing the life out of her.

The distance between their hips grew, giving Nancy the space she needed. She brought her right knee up with every ounce of strength she possessed. Her kneecap connected with his groin in one solid, hard blow. That broke the chokehold on her neck.

Surprise and shock registered on his face followed by pain. He still maintained a weak grip on her neck so, Nancy balled her hands into fists and in one swift movement brought her arms up, between his wrists, and knocked his arms to the sides.

She was free. She sucked in a deep breath. It was like a shot of Expresso. It gave her the boost of energy she so desperately needed.

Mansville let out a guttural, savage groan. He was hunched and hurting. He'd miscalculated Nancy and her ability. Rage washed over him, a long, hot wave. A new fury, born of anger and pain, drove him. His eyes gleamed with violence. With a primal growl, he swung at her.

Nancy dodged his fist and countered with a well placed, powerful kick. Her sneakered foot slammed into his side. He stumbled and almost fell. New pain coursed through his body.

Nancy felt the tide change. The fight was in her favor now. She was going to bring him to his knees if it was the last thing she did. Her martial arts training had taught her to concentrate on the body's most vulnerable parts – the face, throat, groin, and knees.

Nancy stood a respectable five foot six inches, but pitted against Mansville's six foot two frame that put his face and throat out of range for her. Wiser to aim lower where she could deliver a good hard blow that would disable him once and for all.

The knees, she decided in the split second before Mansville recovered from the kick. She twisted her hips, lifted her leg, and landed a solid kick on the side of his left knee. She heard a pop and a yelp. A swift kick at the back of the knee dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

Mansville lay sprawled on the balcony, moaning. Nancy, breathing heavily, stood next to him, her fists clenched and ready.

The promise of rain became a reality. Large, wet drops splattered the balcony and Mansville and Nancy.

The hotel door burst open.

"Police! Freeze!" Detectives Lau and Kim entered the room with their weapons drawn.

Better late than never, Nancy thought as she relaxed for the first time in what seemed an eternity. She wiped a drop of rain from her cheek.

Then fear resurfaced. Detectives Lau and Kim were the backup plan. So, where was Frank?

# # # #

Frank's sweat-drenched t-shirt clung to his body. Sweat trickled down his forehead and onto his nose. It flowed along the bridge of his nose to the tip then dripped unceremoniously onto his shorts. His struggles had paid off and he had freed a hand. Desperately, anxiously, he stretched his fingers toward the cell phone holstered at his waist.

He grunted into the gag in his mouth and strained against the ropes. His fingertips brushed the phone. _Yes! Just a little more!_

There. His fingers grasped the top of the phone. Now he had to pull it out of the holster.

Okay, calm down. Take it slow and easy, he warned himself. Once he had the phone out of the holster he could contact Joe.

Slowly, aggravatingly so, he worked the phone out of the holster by gently rocking it side to side and up.

 _Yes! He had it_.

Then – _Nooooooo!_ It slid out of his sweaty hand and landed on the floor with a resounding clatter.

Oh, for crying out loud. Of all the possible things to happen at this moment, that was the absolute last thing he needed. Frank growled his anger and frustration. If he didn't get out of here soon he was going to lose it – his sanity, every shred of it. He sat there, panting into the gag. And then he noticed it. The ropes. They weren't as tight as before. All that straining to get the phone had paid off. It looked as if he could free his arm and maybe the other one, too. Then he'd be in business.

# # # #

Joe had made his way to the area where he and Frank had met Melinda and Bess that morning. The hallways were deserted. Everyone was most likely in the conference area on the other side of the hotel where the fashion show would take place.

Joe spotted a Men's room and ducked inside. When he emerged a minute later he came face to face with the tall guard. Joe had mentally named him Lumpy due to his large lumpy nose.

Lumpy smiled at Joe. Not a pleasant _I'm happy to see you_ smile, but a _I want to do some serious bodily harm to you_ _and_ _take great pleasure in doing so_ smile.

Joe put on his best _I'm not impressed look_.

"Well, well, well," Lumpy said pounding a beefy fist into a palm, "if it isn't the other Hardy. Me and my friend been looking for you." He tipped his head to the side and the short guard stepped into view.

Joe acknowledged the short guard's presence with a slight nod and grin. "Hey, I've been looking for you guys, too."

"Well, looks like we all found each other," Lumpy said as his partner came up and stood beside him.

Joe's grin faded and he glared at the two men standing in front of him. "Where's my brother?"

Lumpy gave a fake laugh. "Ha, ha, ha, how sweet." To his partner Lumpy said, "He wants to know where his brother is."

Shorty had a mischievous grin that bordered on being a smirk. "I say we show him."

"Yeah, me, too. Let's take him."

Joe backpedaled and readied a fist. His glare deepened into a scowl. "Not so fast. You're going to _tell_ me where my brother is and if you've hurt him −"

Lumpy cut him off, "You ain't in no position to be making demands. In case you hadn't noticed, it's two against one."

"Oh," Joe said, "I forgot. I haven't introduced you to _my_ friend."

Joe hitched a thumb over his shoulder and the tall, imposing bulk of Butch Overton rounded the corner. A nasty sneer covered his face and lifted one corner of his mouth.

Joe grinned. "I'd say he counts as two all by himself."

Butch's appearance momentarily stunned the guards.

Lumpy recovered first. He cocked a fist and launched it at Joe's face. Joe ducked and the fist whizzed over his head. Then Joe popped up and drove his own fist into Lumpy's throat. It was a perfectly placed blow with just the right amount of power and force to disable, not kill. Lumpy swayed on his feet, gagging and gasping.

Joe kicked Lumpy in the gut for good measure. That doubled the guy over and he looked like he might puke. Joe, still on the defensive, delivered a swift kick to Lumpy's chest. That sent the big man staggering backwards, gasping and arms whirling. Joe took two quick steps, leaped, and landed another kick on Lumpy's chest. That planted the big man firmly on the floor with a loud thud.

The short guard looked up into the sneering face of Butch. Figured the odds weren't in his favor and turned and ran.

"Hey!" Butch called after him. Running was not one of Butch's strengths.

"I'll go after him," Joe said and took off.

Butch turned to Lumpy who was moaning on the floor. Butch took a pair of handcuffs from his belt, told Lumpy to roll over and put his hands behind his back. The big man complied and was soon handcuffed.

Joe sprinted down the hallway looking for the short guard. The hall was empty and quiet. Several yards ahead another hallway intersected this one. Joe jogged on. As he neared the intersection, he heard a loud, "Aaaaaaaah!" The cry was followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Joe hustled around the corner and saw the guard slumped against the wall. The guard had a hand to his face and blood poured from his nose.

"Ouch," Joe said and smiled at Frank who was standing over the guard.

Frank grimaced and shook his hand. He'd hit the guard hard.

Joe flashed a wide, happy smile. "Glad to have you back, bro. And your timing is perfect." It _was_ good to have his brother back. Joe couldn't express how relieved he was that Frank was okay.

Frank flexed his fingers. "Glad to be back, little brother. I was a little tied up there for a while. Where's the other guard?"

"With Butch."

"And Nancy?" Frank tensed.

"I sent Kim and Lau in as backup as we discussed earlier."

"Sounds like you have everything under control. Good work, Joe."

Frank's praise put a glow on Joe's face.

"I try," Joe said and gave a slight shrug. It was nice to hear his efforts were appreciated. He'd never admit it, but Frank's approval meant a lot to him.

Frank grabbed the guard's shoulder and yanked him to his feet. Frank and Joe hauled him to Butch who promptly handcuffed him. Then the Hardys and Butch led their two prisoners to the lobby.

As they escorted the guards through hallways, Joe phoned Lau. Lau informed him that Nancy was okay and Mansville was in police custody. Frank visibly relaxed when he heard the news. He'd gambled with Nancy's safety and had told himself he would never do such a thing again. Yet she had proven herself. He couldn't wait to hear the details.

# # # #

The few guests hanging around the lobby that afternoon were treated to the sight of a disheveled, but distinguished looking gentleman being led away in handcuffs. He was following by two disheveled guards in handcuffs.

Frank handed off the short guard to Detective Kim. Blood covered the guard's chin and the front of his shirt. Kim roughly guided the guard through the sliding glass doors and to a waiting patrol car.

Nancy came up alongside of Frank and asked, "What happened to him? It looks like he ran into something."

"He did. My fist." Frank held up the responsible hand. Then he noticed Mansville's painful limp as Detective Lau led him away. Frank pointed and asked, "What happened to him? A fall?"

"You could say that." Nancy grinned. "He had a little help from me."

Frank smiled, but it quickly faded. He saw the marks around Nancy's neck and the way she was rubbing her left arm. "Are you okay?" He didn't even try to hide the concern in his voice.

"Yeah, just a little sore." She saw the bruise and swelling on Frank's jaw. "What about you?" She nodded at his jaw. "That looks painful."

"It is. A little." He lightly touched the bruise. It hurt like hell. So did his hand. "All in a day's work," he said.

* * *

 _A/N: Just a few more chapters. Explanations and romance are on the horizon._

 _Thanks, as ever, for the reviews._


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

John Mansville sat in the interrogation room of the Big Island Police Station. It had been over two hours since he'd been read his rights and taken into custody. He hadn't come directly to the police station either. Nancy's kick to his left knee had torn a tendon so there'd been a stop at the hospital first. Now however, Mansville sat sullenly, his knee wrapped in an Ace bandage and an ice pack draped over it. A pair of crutches leaned against the drab beige wall. The medicine the doctor had given him was finally starting to kick in and bring the pain down to a dull roar. But pain wasn't foremost on Mansville's mind at the moment.

Mansville's lawyer was on the way from Chicago, but he wouldn't arrive until tomorrow. It didn't matter. Mansville had decided to talk, to tell his story. It was something he needed to do, a sort of spiritual cleansing. He hung his head and stared long and hard at the metal table in front of him. Detectives Lau and Kim sat across from him, Lau with a notepad and cold soda in front of him. A manila folder lay open in front of Kim. It contained all the information the team had on Mansville.

Nancy and Frank watched the proceedings through a two-way mirror. Before arriving at the police station Frank had taken a quick shower and changed his clothes. Joe was not present, he was at the hospital with Butch. Just as the team got the call that they could come to the station and watch Mansville's interrogation, Butch had called Joe and said Rosita was awake. When Lau heard this, he'd asked Joe to accompany Butch to the hospital and determine when Rosita would be able to answer questions.

At the police station a police medic had given Frank two ibuprofen tablets and an ice pack for his throbbing jaw. It was throbbing like nobody's business. Nancy had purchased a bottle of Advil at the hotel two hours ago and Frank had taken two pills then, but with the way his jaw was throbbing and swelling he figured another two pills wouldn't hurt. He swallowed the ibuprofen and followed up with a long chug from the bottled water he and Nancy had been given then gingerly placed the ice pack against his jaw.

Nancy had not escaped her struggles with Mansville unscathed. Her neck hurt, her arms hurt, especially the left one, and the knee she'd used on his groin was turning a dark shade of blue. She had taken two Advil at the hotel and was glad she had. Better to deal with a little pain and be alive then the alternative. She let out a small sigh and took a sip of water.

In the interrogation room Mansville let out a tired, resigned sigh. He looked at Lau and Kim and in a low voice said, "She made me feel alive."

"Diana Collins?" Lau asked.

Mansville nodded silently. "We met at Lance's annual Thanksgiving bash. By the time the annual Christmas Fashion Show took place we had begun seeing each other."

Nancy instantly thought of the photo of Diana at the Annual Airedale Christmas Fashion Show, the one where Diana had looked so happy, so alive – _on top of the world_. Now Nancy knew part of the reason why. That was also the picture where Diana was wearing the blue necklace.

"Life meant something again," Mansville was saying, "I hadn't felt that way in a long time. A _very_ long time and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it more than you can imagine. When Diana was murdered a few months later … Well, a part of me died with her." He shook his head as he remembered the pain and anger that had consumed him. "I wanted to make the person responsible pay for what they'd done. For what they stole from me. It's all I thought about for .. for months."

Imperceptibly, his mood changed and he chuckled, a soft mirthless chuckle. "You can't imagine my shock when I saw that necklace – Diana's necklace – around Barbara Westin's neck at dinner that night." A cold, hard fury darkened his blue eyes. "I knew then. I knew in that moment who'd murdered Diana, and probably Gwen, too."

"For the record," Lau said. "Who did you believe had murdered Diana Collins?"

"Chase Westin of course."

"Did you have any other reason to suspect Mr. Westin other than the necklace?"

"Yes. I remembered that Diana had told me she had a brother, a half-brother, living in Chicago. She'd said he was a bum and had recently been hitting her up for money. She'd refused to give him any and according to her, he hadn't taken the rebuff well."

"What did she mean, he hadn't taken the rebuff well?"

"She said he'd threatened her."

"Can you be more specific? What kind of threats?"

"Diana wasn't specific and she didn't take the threats seriously. She said her brother had made demands and threats all his life. That even as a child he'd thrown fits whenever he didn't get his way. She equated his threats to an adult temper tantrum and said nothing would come of them, that nothing ever came of them." Mansville hung his head and stared at his hands resting on the table. "How very wrong she was. How very, very, wrong."

Across the table, Lau could feel Mansville's anguish.

It was time for the big question. Lau cleared his throat. "Ahem, Mr. Mansville, did you kill Chase Westin?"

On this subject Mansville had decided to take his lawyer's advice. "No," he said. Let them prove it, he thought with grim satisfaction. He wasn't going to give the police anything they could hang him with.

Kim pulled a sheet of paper from the file in front of him and slid it to Lau. Lau in turn slid it in front of Mansville. "Records from your cell phone," he said. "You called Westin the night before he was attacked."

Mansville remained calm. "So?"

"Why did you call him?"

Mansville grinned and his tone was sarcastic, "I asked him how he liked his steak."

"Very funny," Lau said unfazed. "Your confession isn't really necessary. You confessed to Miss Drew. We have it on tape. She was wearing a wire."

"That was said in the heat of the moment," Mansville growled. "She pushed a few buttons. She stepped on a few nerves." Mansville locked eyes with Lau. "Do you know how many nights I've lain awake thinking about Diana?"

Lau said nothing. Sometimes it was best to let the suspect talk.

Mansville ran a hand over his face. "So many nights I've lain in bed thinking about how she was taken from me. There was no reason. No reason at all!" He slammed a fist on the table. "One senseless act changed everything. It changed my life forever. And what did the system do?" He gave a disdainful snort. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The case went cold. The police stopped investigating. I swore that if I ever found out who did this I would make them pay. I had the training, the skills."

Mansville paused a beat, took a ragged breath. "Then seven years later the case is being brought up again. Frank Hardy shows up at my hotel room asking about Diana Collins. He became the enemy right then and there. He was part of the system – the system that had let Diana down."

Mansville eyes became glassy and remote. He stared into the distance. His mind took him to the past, to a time and place he'd just as soon forget. Vietnam. Bullets whizzed over his head. He was crouched in a foxhole. Mounds of dirt, dirt he'd dug out with his own hands and carefully molded around the rim of a foxhole. He'd made a notch in the mound and his M-16 rested in it. His hand was on the trigger and his eye at the scope.

Men's screams and shouts filled the moist, jungle air. Screams and cries filled his ears and senses. Men moaned. Men cried out in pain. Men yelled for help.

"We've got wounded over here!" "Where's the medic?!" "Wounded!" "We need help!"

Artillery blasts shook the ground. More yells. "Incoming! Incoming!"

Helicopters buzzed overhead. The smell of smoke, blood, fear, and death hung all around him. It saturated the air. The enemy, the Viet Cong, were everywhere, attacking from all sides. It was him against them.

"I was on a mission," Mansville said.

Given the glassy stare, Lau wasn't sure Mansville knew he was speaking out loud and Lau didn't dare interrupt.

"I was on a seek-and-destroy mission. I wanted revenge. People were going to pay. Anyone involved with the justice system was going to feel my wrath. Feel the pain I'd lived through. I was going to dole out justice. I did it in Nam. I would do it here."

"You wanted to kill Miss Drew and the Hardys?" Lau asked.

That broke the spell. Mansville snapped back to the present. The far-away look in his eyes evaporated. Lau wanted to kick himself. He should have followed his own advice and let Mansville talk. Too late now.

"Well," Mansville said, the sarcasm returning, "I just meant to scare them off really." That of course was a lie – a bit of self preservation – but it was the story he'd come up with and he was sticking to it. He figured the cops might go easy on him for murdering a murderer, but not the attempted murder of a PI, a female one at that.

"I didn't go to Miss Drew's room with the intention of killing her," he insisted, "I, it's just that as I said earlier, she pushed a few buttons. She made it personal." That was true. Always good to mix some truth with the lies.

"Hmm." Lau eyed Mansville. "And those guards you hired −"

"Complete idiots." Mansville waved a hand like he was swatting a fly. "I paid them a couple hundred dollars to keep the Hardys out of the way for a while. That's all. If they did anything else that's not my doing."

"Yes, well, they're looking at assault and kidnapping charges," Lau informed Mansville.

"I could care less." Mansville leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and refused to say any more. He'd said enough.

Lau saw the far-away stare return. Mansville was slipping into the past again.

* * *

 _A/N: So, there you have the explanations for the murders. Next up, some down time for our detectives. They've earned it._


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Late Friday afternoon Nancy and Frank limped into the _Aloha Hilton_. Well, Nancy limped and Frank stumbled. Considering what they'd been through that day it wasn't surprising.

The flesh above Nancy's right knee had begun to swell and throb. She'd expected as much when she saw the bruises developing earlier. Another dose of Advil was in order.

Frank was bone-tired and it showed. He hadn't slept much, or well, the past two nights. His face was drawn and tight. Fatigue, combined with the events of the day had sapped every bit of energy he had. He thought of all the things he'd endured that morning – a fight with the guards, being gagged and bound, then working his way out of the ropes, and just for good measure he'd punched the short guard in the nose. Okay, that felt good at the time, payback-wise, but now his hand was telling him it might not have been a great idea. It felt like he'd dropped a fifty-pound weight on it.

Every part of his body ached. It felt like a Mack truck had run him over, figured it didn't do a good enough job and had run over him again.

Pain medicine – pain medicine, he thought, oh and a cold beer. On second thought make that a cold beer, pain medicine, and another cold beer. Of course with as tired as he was he'd probably pass out after two beers. Actually, at the moment that didn't sound like a bad idea.

"Any messages from Joe?" Nancy asked bringing Frank out of his thoughts. She limped over to a bench in the hotel lobby and sat down. She slowly extended her right leg with the throbbing knee.

Frank eased his weary body down beside her, his phone in his hand. He scrolled through the screen. "Yeah, here's one." He eyed the small screen for a second then said, "He says when Rosita woke up the first words out of her mouth were, 'The evil man is in room ten-thirty.'"

Nancy chuckled. "Wow, that poor woman must've been thinking about 'the evil man' the whole time she was in a coma. That's the Westin's room by the way, so it looks like Chase was the one to borrow Rosita's passkey. I would say this pretty much confirms him as Gwen's killer."

"Yep." Frank nodded agreement. "Joe also says he and Butch have arranged a flight for Rosita's mother for tomorrow. She arrives at four pm."

"Nice." Nancy closed her eyes and leaned back against the bench.

Frank kept reading the messages. "Well, Joe's certainly been busy. He also contacted the Chicago detectives. They've found that a Don West, AKA Chase Westin, did in fact work for _Frazer and Frazer_ at the same time as Gwen." Frank looked over the next message and said, "Joe got a call from Walter. He says the housekeeper positively identified the necklace as Margie Collins'. She said that Mrs. Collins gave it to Diana when she learned her cancer was terminal."

Nancy opened her eyes and sat up. "You know, I bet Chase did take that necklace right off of Diana's neck." She frowned and shook her head at the thought. "Although, I don't think he initially went to her apartment for the necklace."

"No," Frank agreed, "I'm sure he went there looking for money like Mansville said."

"And when Diana refused to give him any they probably had a fight. If she was wearing the necklace he might've asked for it."

"Or demanded it," Frank said.

"Yes, it was just as good as getting money and he probably felt he was entitled to the necklace as much as Diana since it did belong to their mother."

"Sounds like a likely scenario," Frank said. "But of course, we'll never know for sure what happened in that apartment that day." He ran a hand through his hair and let out a tired groan. "Changing the subject, I could use a cold beer and some more Advil."

"Me too."

A dark brow rose in question. "You want a beer?"

Nancy grinned. The look on Frank's face was priceless. "Yes. Why not?"

"I didn't know you drank beer," he said, getting to his feet.

"On occasion." Nancy's grin widened. It was fun to surprise Frank. Almost thrilling, she thought as he slipped an arm under her elbow and helped her up. She really needed to ice and elevate her knee, but a cold beer with Frank sounded like the perfect way to relax and unwind.

They slowly made their way to the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_.

At six-fifteen, Nancy and Frank were seated at a table for four on the terrace with beers in hand and a perfect view of the ocean. This was their last night on the island and they would finally enjoy a Hawaiian sunset together.

Frank lifted his glass. "A toast to another case solved."

Nancy clinked her glass with Frank's. "And to the sunset."

They sipped – long, satisfying sips. The sun, a fiery orange and pink ball, descended slowly. The sky was ablaze with color – hues of pink, orange, purple, and red. It slowly changed as they watched. The colors created a path of muted light across the rippled ocean.

"It's gorgeous," Nancy said, "simply gorgeous." She set her glass on the table without taking her eyes off the view.

Frank was to Nancy's left. They sat there for the next ten minutes enjoying the ever changing sky, awed by its beauty. Neither spoke. There was no need. This moment required no words.

At last the sun slipped out of sight leaving a dark purple sky in its place. Frank edged closer to Nancy. He put an arm around her shoulders and leaned over. He kissed her gently on the lips. His jaw throbbed in protest, but he ignored it. The kiss deepened and so did the pain. He ignored it again and concentrated on the kiss. He was doing a good job of it until a voice broke his concentration.

"Ahem," Joe said for a second time, a slow smile creeping across his face. He and Bess stood beside the table. "I really hate to break up this, um, special moment .."

"No, you don't," Frank said and reluctantly pulled away from Nancy.

Joe pulled out a chair for Bess.

The terrace lights came on and cast a soft yellow glow over everything.

As Bess lowered herself into her chair she caught sight of Nancy's knee. "Oh my, is that a bruise?"

Nancy said shifting her leg to the side. "It is."

"Looks like it hurts."

"It does," Nancy assured Bess.

Bess turned to Frank and gasped. "Oh my gosh! Your face. Is that a bruise?"

"You're two for two," Frank said and reached for his beer. He definitely needed it now. His jaw was throbbing full-throttle.

Bess peered at Nancy again. "Nancy? Are those marks on your neck?"

"Yes." Nancy sighed and reached for her beer.

"What on earth happened to you two?" Bess was wide eyed.

"Didn't Joe tell you?" Frank asked.

"We just met up," Bess said. "We came looking for the two of you. This is the first place we looked."

"Lucky us," Frank mumbled under his breath.

A waitress appeared and Joe and Bess ordered sodas. After the waitress left Frank told Bess about his day – the fight, being tied up, and punching out the guard. She found it all very exciting. The waitress returned with Bess and Joe's drinks and Nancy told everyone about her fight with Mansville.

Bess was stunned. "I would never in a million years have thought Mr. Mansville would do something like that. And the fact he murdered Mr. Westin is .. is, well, it's just horrible." She gave a slight shiver. "It's unnerving. You think you know some one."

Nancy had a question. "Were the wives at the fashion show today?"

"No," Bess told her. "Everyone had heard about Mr. Westin's murder so no one was surprised when none of the wives showed. We figured Kate and Paula were consoling Barbara. Boy, do I feel sorry for her. But then I guess Paula and Barbara must've wound up consoling Kate when they heard her husband murdered Barbara's husband. Good grief." Bess shook her head sadly. "Those poor wives. I really feel for them."

"So do I," Nancy said.

Bess took a sip of her soda and turned her attention to Joe. "And what about you? I don't see any bruises or marks on you."

Joe grinned with pride. "That's because, unlike these two, I actually know what I'm doing."

Nancy and Frank groaned, but held their tongues. They couldn't really argue given the visible evidence.

"You know," Joe said warming to his story, "I basically saved the day."

"Oh," Bess encouraged him. She added a flirtatious smile as incentive, not that he needed any.

"Yeah," Joe said, "you see, it was all my great plan. I had the brilliant idea of bringing in Butch as my back up. That guy is so big he didn't even have to throw a punch or say anything. That little guard took one look at him and turned and ran."

Everyone got a good chuckle out of that.

Joe explained, in detail, how he cleverly led the guards to the deserted hallway. They were so dumb he bragged, that they thought they were following him. But he had the upper hand and he knew it. He ducked into a Mens' room and phoned Butch. Once Butch was on his way, Joe came out of the Mens' room and faced the guards. He described their complete shock at seeing Butch and how his perfectly executed kick put the big guard on the floor groaning in pain.

When Joe finished his story Bess proposed a toast. "To another case solved. To Nancy Drew and the Hardys."

Everyone clinked glasses.

"So," Bess said setting her glass on the table and looking at everyone, "I have two pieces of good news for everyone."

"What's that," Joe asked.

Bess leaned on the table. "Mr. Airedale has offered to pay for the four of us to spend another night in Hawaii. It's his way of saying thanks for finding his wife's killer and clearing his name."

"Wow," Frank said, "That is great news. I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that. With the way I'm feeling I could definitely use an extra day to recuperate before facing the long flight home."

"Me, too," Nancy said.

"Make that three," Joe said. "Not that I need to recuperate, I'm just happy to have another day in Hawaii. What's the other good news?"

Bess smiled, clearly delighted with her next bit of news. "Mr. Airedale is giving an after-party tonight here at the hotel. There'll be plenty of food and drinks – all free – plus a band for dancing and we're all invited. It starts at eight."

"Well, you can count me out," Frank said, his voice weary. "I'm in no shape for a party. Right now I need more pain medicine, ice, and a good night's sleep."

"I'm afraid you'll have to count me out, too," Nancy said. "I need to stay off this knee tonight. It's already telling me I should have it elevated and ice on it."

"Well, gee." Bess let out a disheartened sigh and her shoulders slumped.

"Hey," Joe said and bumped Bess' shoulder, "don't forget about me. I'm fine and I'm hungry. Dancing sounds great, too." He flashed one of his famous smiles and his eyes twinkled in the soft terrace lighting.

Bess brightened. "Thanks, Joe. I didn't want to go alone."

"This'll be fun," Joe said. "This is finally feeling like a vacation."

Bess checked her watch. "Okay, well I need to freshened up a little. I can be ready in forty minutes. Pick me up then?"

"You got it." Joe drained his soda.

Soon, Frank and Nancy found themselves alone again.

"Well," Frank said. "I'm hungry, but we both need more Advil and ice. What would you say to room service in my room in half an hour?"

"I'd say that sounds great. I'll bring the pain medicine."

# # # #

It was two in the morning when Joe crept into his and Frank's room. The TV was on and it cast a blue glow over the room. The sound was muted. Joe gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkened room then peered at Frank's bed. Yeah, that was what he'd expected to find, Nancy and Frank sound asleep in Frank's bed.

Joe crept closer to the bed. No, it didn't appear as if there'd been a romantic lead up to sleeping together. They still had their clothes on, shorts and t-shirts. It simply appeared they'd fallen asleep while watching TV and icing their wounds.

Poor guys, Joe thought.

A bottle of Advil was on the bedside table along with a half empty glass of water. Another bottle of Advil was on the glass table.

Nancy was on the side of the bed closest to Joe. Frank was on his back and Nancy was curled toward Frank, her head resting against his shoulder. A damp towel lay on the floor at Joe's feet. It had fallen off Nancy's knee at some point. Joe picked it up and an ice pack fell out. The ice it once held was now warm water. Joe walked around to the other side of the bed and found another towel and ice pack on the floor, the one Frank had used for his jaw. A damp towel was draped over Frank's right hand.

Joe gathered up the ice packs and laid them on the glass table then gathered up the towels and took them to the bathroom. He tossed them on the counter and grabbed his toothbrush and shaving kit.

He took one last glance at Nancy and Frank and quietly left the room.

In the hall he hit the redial button on his cell phone. Bess answered before the first ring ended.

"We were right," Joe said, "Nancy's safe and sound with Frank."

"Thank goodness," Bess said.

Joe was at the elevators. "You sure you don't mind if I bunk with you tonight?" He paused, waiting for Bess' answer before he hit the 'up' button.

"Of course not. Nancy's bed's available. Besides, what are friends for?"

"I'm going to owe you big time for this Bess Marvin," Joe said as he pushed the 'up' button. "Without you I'd probably be sleeping on a beach chair tonight."

* * *

 _A/N: Just in case anyone is wondering, no, Bess and Joe aren't romantically involved in this story. They are just good friends. There are three more chapters to go. Thank you all kindly for the reviews. :)_


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Frank's throbbing jaw woke him earlier than he liked. Golden rays of sunlight leaked around the edges of the drapes. Frank groaned and reached out in search of his towel and ice pack. His right arm bumped into a warm body. That got his attention. Then he remembered.

 _Nancy_.

They'd had a low-key, but pleasant room service dinner last night. Then they'd filled their ice packs, wrapped them in towels, and lain on the bed to watch a movie. Apparently, they'd fallen asleep.

Any other time this would be a dream come true waking up next to Nancy, but today with the way his head felt … He would be lucky if he could sit up straight.

Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position. Okay, he was sitting up, but it wasn't exactly straight. It was more a half-hunch and his head felt like a bomb ready to explode. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his head adjust to the change in position. He saw the Advil on the glass table and slid off the bed.

The movement woke Nancy. She rolled onto her back, yawned and stretched. Her eyes fluttered open. It took her a moment to figure out where she was.

"Oh," she said when realization hit. She propped herself on her elbows and gave Frank a sheepish look. "Guess I fell asleep."

Frank thought she looked pretty darn good first thing in the morning. So good, he momentarily forgot his headache.

"Yeah, so did I." He grabbed the bottle of Advil. His dark hair was mussed, his t-shirt and shorts were wrinkled and he needed a shave. The pounding in his head returned. He opened the bottle and dumped three tablets in his hand, leaned back, and swallowed all three in one dry gulp.

Nancy sat up. Tangled strands of hair framed her face. She smoothed back her hair and said, "That amazes me, how you can take pills without any water."

"It's a learned talent, but I could still use some water. How 'bout you?" He opened the small hotel fridge.

"No, thanks. I'm fine." Nancy slid her legs over the edge of the bed and examined her knee.

Frank got a bottled water, twisted the cap, and took a long chug then asked, "How's the knee?"

If one went strictly by looks, it looked a lot worse this morning. Several new colors, yellow, red and green, had decided to join the black and blue of yesterday, but the swelling was down.

"It's not as swollen and not as painful," Nancy said with a smile and slid off the bed. She stood carefully, testing the knee. "Not bad. I can put weight on it. I think if I take it easy today I'll be fine. How's your jaw?"

"Better. I've got a headache the size of Mount Everest, but the Advil should take care of it." Frank flexed his hand. "And the hand's okay, just a little sore."

Nancy pointed to Joe's empty bed. "I wonder where Joe is? I didn't hear him come in last night. Did you?"

"No, but I was dead to the world, so even if he did come in I probably wouldn't have heard him."

"If he came in and saw us, what would he do? Where would he go? Do you think he found some place else to sleep?" Nancy felt a little guilty that she and Frank might have inadvertently sent Joe away.

Frank read the expression on Nancy's face. "Hey, don't worry about Joe. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. He's very resourceful."

"But still …" Nancy's face wrinkled with concern.

Frank looked around for his phone. "I'll call him, but I'm sure he's fine."

Frank found his phone and dialed Joe's number. It took several rings before a sleepy voice answered.

"Hello."

"Bess?" Frank's brows knotted together in confusion then lifted in surprise and interest.

"Frank?" asked a sleepy Bess.

"Yeah. I'm checking on Joe. He's not here."

"Oh." Bess yawned.

"You have any idea where he might be?" Frank waited. He heard the rustle of sheets.

At last, Bess said, "He's here. He's still asleep. We had a late night. You need him?"

"Uh, no. Just making sure he's okay. Thanks, Bess. Sorry I woke you."

"'kay, bye." Bess hung up.

Frank pressed the end button and looked at Nancy. "Like I said, he's resourceful and he's fine."

"I guess so." Nancy's eyes met Frank's. They held the same curious glint as his. Was it possible? Bess and Joe?

"Nah," they both said at the same time, in the same tone, with the same dismissive flicks of their hands.

# # # #

By one o'clock Nancy and Frank were sacked out on the beach soaking up the sun and heat. Two hours ago Frank had asked if a bruise could tan. Nancy had said they were going to find out. Then they had stretched out on their towels and promptly fallen asleep.

Bess and Joe were making good use of their extra day in Hawaii. They were taking a helicopter tour of the island. They'd invited Nancy and Frank, but the battered couple had declined. They really just wanted to relax, recuperate, and enjoy the beach and sun.

So, here they were on the beach. A nearby group of palm trees cast long shadows across the sand. The shadows had slowly worked their way over Nancy and Frank.

Nancy stirred to life, thanks to her stomach, not the invading shade. She and Frank had had coffee and toast in Frank's room that morning and that was a long time ago. Nancy looked at Frank. All he had on was his shorts. His t-shirt lay crumpled on the sand next to him. She sat up and leisurely scanned his long, muscular body. Nice biceps lead up to nice deltoids at his shoulders. Her eyes moved to his chest. Well-defined pectoral muscles stretched across the broad expense. He had a couple of small bruises on his chest, but nothing serious.

She looked at her knee. The swelling was gone and so was the pain. She hoped Frank's jaw was feeling better.

Her stomach grumbled. She put a hand over it hoping to silence it. She didn't want to wake Frank.

Another loud rumble, this one loud enough to wake Frank.

Frank stirred, but did not open his eyes. "Hmmm, you say something?"

"Um, no." Nancy cringed. "That was my stomach."

Frank cracked an eye. "You hungry?"

Nancy nodded rapidly.

Frank opened both eyes and smiled. "Me, too. Let's get something to eat."

A few minutes later they were headed to the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_. Frank had his t-shirt on and his towel draped around his neck. Nancy had stuffed her towel in the handbag she'd brought to Frank's room last night.

Frank and Nancy entered the Bar and Grill and immediately spotted the wives. Kate, Barbara, and Paula were having drinks at a table in the corner.

Nancy nudged Frank's arm. "I really need to say something to Kate and Barbara. I feel awful about their husbands and how everything turned out."

"Okay," Frank said hesitantly. He would just as soon find a table and order food.

"Nancy." Kate Mansville sprang out of her chair and rushed up to Nancy. She embraced Nancy in a bear hug. "I'm so, so, sorry dear."

Nancy was startled by the apology. "Mrs. Mansville, I mean Kate, you have nothing to be sorry about."

Kate put her hands on Nancy's shoulders and looked at her. "My dear, I heard that that idiot husband of mine tried to kill you. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" Her eyes darted over Nancy checking for wounds. "Your knee. What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. And you have nothing to be sorry about. You had nothing to do with your husband or his actions or what he did."

Barbara came over and placed a comforting hand on Nancy's back. "Please, join us." She motioned toward their table. "We're having drinks."

Nancy looked at Frank.

"I'll get us some iced teas," he said and tipped his head toward the bar.

"Thanks," Nancy said and sank into the chair Barbara had pulled out.

Nancy looked at all three women seated at the table. "So, how are all of you doing? I know this has to be a difficult time for each of you."

Barbara spoke first, her voice full of indignation, "I can't believe I was so stupid." Her lower lip gave a slight quiver. "How could Chase pull the wool over my eyes like that? I keep asking myself, what kind of man did I marry? He murdered two people."

Before Nancy could respond, Kate spat out, "Well, look at me! I was married to the same man for eighteen years. You'd think I would've known him by then wouldn't you? Guess not. He was having an affair right behind my back. I can't tell you how angry that makes me." She shook her head as if to shake away the thoughts. "Men! At times they can be such pigs, such absolute filthy pigs!"

Frank stepped up to the table, two iced teas in hand. He stood there stunned and speechless.

Kate, realizing Frank was there, looked up at him. "Oh. Um, no offense."

Frank was dubious. "None taken … I think." He sat an ice tea in front of Nancy and remained standing. He didn't think it was safe to sit. He felt like he'd walked into a den of angry lionesses.

Kate hadn't lost her momentum. "Nancy, I want you to know I wasn't naïve. I'd suspected John had a crush on Diana. That much was obvious, he didn't try to hide his attraction. But so help me, I didn't think, or perhaps, I couldn't bring myself to believe he'd actually act on it. Of course, then with the age difference, I didn't think _she_ would be interested. Guess I was wrong about that if you believe what he told the police." She shook her head again hoping to dislodge her own doubts and anger.

"Well, look at my husband," Barbara said, "he apparently only cared about money. According to Detective Lau, Chase murdered Diana so he could get all the inheritance and _that_ necklace." Her hand instinctively went to her neck. She looked at Nancy. "I don't want that necklace anymore. I can't stand to look at it or have it in my possession. Who's the rightful owner, or heir? Do you know?"

"Um, no, I don't know." Nancy felt like she'd stepped into a hornet's nest, one that had been violently shaken.

Frank braved a response, "Maybe the housekeeper would know. Margie Collins had the same housekeeper for over thirty years."

"Frank's right," Nancy said with great relief. She looked up at Frank. "Did Margie have any siblings? Or maybe Harvey Collins did?"

"I don't know. I didn't research Margie or Harvey's backgrounds, but the housekeeper should know," Frank said.

Barbara was glad to have an answer to a question that had plagued her since yesterday. "Can I give you the necklace, Nancy?" Her eyes pleaded with Nancy.

Frank answered, "I think it's best if you give it to Detective Lau. He'll make sure it gets to the housekeeper."

"Thanks, I will." Barbara settled back in her chair feeling relieved. Once she'd discovered the necklace belonged to Diana she didn't want to have anything to do with it. It was stolen goods. It had been given in love, or at least she'd thought so at the time, but with the truth coming to light, she felt the sooner it was out of her hands, the better.

Nancy looked at Paula who'd remained silent this whole time. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red as if she'd been crying.

"And how are you doing?" Nancy asked.

Kate answered for her, "Paula's told her husband to pack his bags and hit the road. He's a cheating, lying, ―"

"That's enough," Paula said laying a firm hand on Kate's arm.

The strength and tone of Paula's voice surprised Nancy.

Paula peered at Nancy. There was an inner strength hidden behind her small brown eyes. "My husband's been cheating on me for years. I've put up with it thinking it was just a phase that all men go through. Heaven help me, but I really thought he'd grow out of it. But after all this." She spread out her hands palms up to indicate her two friends. "Why should I stay with him? Last night I told him it was over. He's only stayed with me for my money. I'm sure of that. I'm filing for divorce as soon as we land in Chicago."

Nancy thought that out of the three women, Paula's troubles seemed the simplest. Nancy remembered the day she'd seen Parker meet up with the young woman. Nancy was happy to know that Paula had known about her husband's indiscretions.

Kate lifted her cocktail. "Here's to us. We've been friends and business associates for more than twenty years. We've watched out for each other. We've stuck together through the good times and the bad. We've always been there for one another and we always will be."

Barbara and Paula lifted their long-stemmed glasses and said, "To us."

Three glasses clinked together in unison.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to those who have left reviews. Your time, effort, and comments are always greatly appreciated. There are two more chapters after this. Time for some fun in the sun and the final wrap up of the case._


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Frank and Nancy were just being seated in the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_ when Bess and Joe showed up. Frank and Nancy hadn't even had a chance to pick up their menus.

Bess dropped into the wicker chair next to Nancy and said, "Hi, guys."

Joe took the chair next to Frank. "Looks like we're just in time for lunch. Right?" Joe looked at Frank for confirmation.

Frank narrowed his eyes and drew in a frustrated breath. "Right." After enduring the wives and their bitterness, he had hoped for a quiet, albeit, late lunch with Nancy.

Bess held up a hand. "Hang on everyone. We don't want to eat too much. I got a text from Melinda right after our helicopter landed. She said Mr. Airedale has invited us to dinner tonight with him and Melinda in the _Waikiki Restaurant_ at 8pm."

"That's the most expensive restaurant in the hotel," Frank said.

Joe smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Oh boy. I bet they have the best steaks in the hotel, maybe on the island."

Bess smoothed back her wind-swept curls. "Melinda said she has checks for you, too. For your detective work."

"I like the sound of that," Frank said. He checked his watch. "It's almost two. We still have six hours until dinner and I'm starving. I'm not holding back."

"Me neither," Joe said and picked up a menu.

During lunch Bess and Joe told Nancy and Frank about their helicopter tour.

Bess stabbed her lobster salad and said, "I wish you guys could've come with us. It was so beautiful. The ocean and beaches are absolutely gorgeous. You get to see everything from the air. There's nothing like it."

Nancy swallowed a piece of her shrimp scampi and sighed, "I wish we could've gone, too. But I really needed the rest."

Bess studied her friend's face. "You do look more rested today. How's the knee?"

"Much better." Nancy smiled. "The swelling's gone, but it'll be black and blue – and every other color of the rainbow – for at least a week."

Bess peered down at Nancy's knee and her face scrunched in distaste. "It is colorful. But as long as it doesn't hurt, that's good." She looked at Frank. "How's your jaw?" She noticed it was almost as colorful as Nancy's knee.

"Still a little painful when I chew, but light-years better than yesterday."

After lunch the four friends hit the beach. It seemed the best way to spend their last day in Hawaii. Nancy and Bess rented kickboards. Frank and Joe rented surfboards. The guys had been itching to surf ever since their arrival.

Frank figured he was going to pay for this later, as far as his jaw was concerned, but at the moment he didn't care. He was going surfing!

Since Frank and Joe lived on a bay in New York, they had some surfing experience. But the waves in Hawaii were monsters compared to the placid waves of a bay. Of course, that's what made surfing in Hawaii ten times better than their hometown of Bayport.

Frank and Joe waded into the ocean up to their waists then slid atop their boards and paddled toward deeper water. It was tough going against the oncoming waves. An especially big wave came and the guys stopped paddling. They held onto their boards and rode over the crest of the wave, huge smiles on their faces.

Bess and Nancy used their kickboards and paddled through the choppy water. A big wave swelled beneath Nancy and flipped her off her board and into the ocean. Down she went. A second later she came up sputtering, her hair plastered to her head.

Bess laughed at her friend as she paddled over. "Hey Nan, these waves are wick —"

A large wave swallowed up Bess and Nancy and swept them toward shore. Seconds later both women were pushing wet hair out of their faces and laughing.

Nancy looked around and spotted the brothers. "We need to get going. The guys are pretty far out."

The women got on their kickboards and paddled and kicked for all they were worth. They wanted to have a good view of the action. They weren't disappointed either.

Joe was the first to hop atop his surfboard. Knees bent and arms out, he teetered and tottered, trying to steady himself. Finally, he got all his body parts working as a coordinated unit.

 _Yes! He was riding the wave. Looking good, too._

A wide, confident smile broke over his face. He glanced over his shoulder to see how Frank was doing. Big mistake. Joe lost his balance and toppled into the ocean.

Frank was atop his board, having a heck of a time staying upright. These waves were killer and it took every ounce of concentration to maintain his balance. Then he saw Joe tumble into the sea and laughed. He pumped a triumphant fist in the air which was his undoing. He lost his footing and found himself, clinging to his board – underwater.

At least he'd managed to stay on the board, he thought as he surfaced and spat out a mouthful of salty water. He looked for Joe. There he was, heading out to sea again. Frank followed suit.

Frank and Joe soon developed a friendly competition between themselves. The goal was to see who could ride their board the longest. Bess and Nancy were the judges. Frank gave Nancy his waterproof watch so she could keep track of their times. Nancy and Bess stood on the beach, each woman cheering her man on.

Joe had the edge for a while. He was quicker on his feet and took more risks. He rode the waves with a fierce tenacity and his times got longer and longer with each ride.

Frank initially was more cautious, trying to guard his sore jaw. That all changed when Nancy informed him Joe was winning. Time to step up his game, Frank decided, and take more risks.

Both guys, wanting to outdo the other, became more and more aggressive in their rides. They pushed themselves so hard they soon spent more time falling in the water than riding their boards. Nancy and Bess laughed uproariously.

When the brothers came ashore for a break, a couple of Hawaiians, who looked like they'd been born with a surfboard in their hands, offered the brothers some friendly advice.

"Own the wave," said the older of the two men, his own personalized surfboard tucked under his arm.

The younger Hawaiian said, "You have to become one with the ocean. Feel it, ride it." He made a gentle undulating motion with his hand.

Joe patted Frank on the back and said, "Oh, I think we've become one with the ocean. I don't know about you, but I've felt and rode every undercurrent out there!"

Frank agreed and everyone laughed.

The brothers were soon back in the water and the afternoon slipped away .. gradually, subtly. Before the friends knew it, the sun was setting. They hadn't even noticed their fellow sunbathers, surfers, and swimmers packing up and leaving. The beach was now deserted.

The darkening sky forced Frank and Joe ashore. They trudged through the sand carrying their surfboards, water dripping from their hair and swim trunks.

"What time is it?" asked a drenched Frank. He wiped water off his face with his hand.

Nancy came up beside him. Her damp hair hung in long, loose curls around her sun-kissed face. She caught hold of his wet arm. "A little after six."

She and Bess had spread beach towels out on the sand.

Nancy guided Frank toward a towel. "Let's sit and relax. We can watch the sun go down before we get ready for dinner."

Frank laid his board on the sand next to the towel then took Nancy's hand and pulled her down onto the towel with him. There was a possessive glint in his eyes.

Joe and Bess sat a short distance away laughing and talking. Bess handed Joe a bottled water.

Smiling, Nancy pushed Frank away in a playful manner and handed him a dry towel. He toweled off his face and hair then tossed the towel aside. He moved closer to the object of his desire, brought a hand up, and buried it in Nancy's damp hair. He drew her close and captured her lips with his own. He'd wanted to kiss her all day and this seemed the perfect opportunity. The perfect place and moment .. the beach, the sunset. Romantic.

The kiss was intense and passionate. Frank's lips moved against Nancy's as his wet body brushed hers. She tasted the sea on his mouth and smelled the salty water in his hair. It was utterly intoxicating.

The sky grew darker and the kiss grew deeper. That's when rational thoughts made their way, unheeded, to the front of Nancy's logical mind. They weren't alone, Bess and Joe were only a few feet away, and things were heating up fast between her and Frank.

Although restless by nature, Nancy did not rush into things, especially in matters of the heart. She, of all people, knew that passionate affairs often burned out long before they even had a change to start. However, her heart, a heart not easily persuaded, was telling her Frank was the _one_. His kiss brought a fire in her heart like no one before. That fact alone was both unsettling _and_ reassuring.

His lips and tongue continued their quest – seeking, testing, reveling in new sensations.

She stilled him with a hand to his chest, felt the beating of his heart beneath her fingertips.

He broke the kiss and looked at her, his dark eyes smoldering in the fading light.

"Bess, Joe," she said quietly and nodded in their direction.

The pounding in Frank's ears almost blotted out Nancy's words. He was breathing heavily and the heat of the moment caused his breath to catch in his throat. He glanced over his shoulder then back at Nancy. "I, I honestly forgot about them."

"Yeah, me too. You .. you surprised me with that kiss." Her heart was racing and her face was flush.

Frank saw desire in Nancy's eyes, but hesitation, too. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It gave his pounding heart a chance to calm down. "I, I wanted to do that .. kiss you I mean .. before the pain got too bad." He gestured at his jaw. "It's starting to throb again. All the surfing … and falling."

He sat up a little straighter. It put an emotional distance between them. "I, I didn't mean to do anything that .." his voice trailed off.

Had he moved too fast? Had he frightened her? That was the last thing he wanted to do. All day he'd wanted to kiss her. For days actually. Finally, he had. He'd kissed her with all the passion and desire he'd held in check. The kiss had been like lighting a stick of dynamite. When their lips met, his emotions had exploded. His passion had been immediate – almost beyond his control.

Nancy sensed Frank's doubts. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I liked it, Frank. The kiss. And I like you. I like you a lot. I hope you know that." She ran a hand tenderly along his arm and looked up at him from beneath dark lashes.

"I like you a lot, too," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His heart told him it was much more than _like_ , but that was the word Nancy had used and he decided to play it safe and use it, too.

Their eyes met, searching for the truth and were overjoyed to find it.

Nancy leaned closer, put her mouth to Frank's ear and in a husky whisper said, "That kiss .. literally took my breath away."

That, and the kiss she gave him, provided all the reassurance he needed.

They turned to the setting sun, shoulder to shoulder and hand-in-hand. The last of the sun's feeble rays lit a watery path through the ocean. Dots of light flashed like diamonds on the water's surface.

Nancy thought of the handsome man sitting beside her, his hand wrapped around hers. She hadn't told him, hadn't wanted to admit it yet, thought perhaps it was too soon. But she was falling for him. Completely and totally.

# # # #

The friends met up at seven-fifty. Nancy wore the aquamarine dress she'd worn to the luau. She hadn't had time to do laundry since her arrival in Hawaii so her clothing choices were limited. She didn't really mind though, the dress held pleasant memories.

Frank offered her his arm. He was wearing a white, long-sleeved, button up shirt. He'd rolled up the sleeves, very neatly of course and tucked the shirt into a nice pair of Ralph Lauren khaki shorts. His newly bronzed skin looked good against the bright white of the shirt.

As Nancy took his arm she saw the fatigue in his eyes. He'd overdone it today. The furrowed brow and subtle tension running along his jaw told her he was in pain.

"You got a bit of a tan today," Frank said brushing his thumb over a rosy cheek.

"Yeah. You too. It blends nicely with your bruise. How's the jaw feel?"

"Like someone hit me with a sledgehammer." He gave a weak grin. "I took three Advil the minute I hit the room. I'll be icing my jaw as soon as dinner's over."

As the group walked to the restaurant Joe told everyone he'd heard from Butch. "Butch says Rosita's mother arrived right on time and he picked her up at the airport and took her to the hospital. The other good news is, Rosita is doing great and the doctors say she'll be released tomorrow."

The tall, leggy Melinda Smith was waiting for the group when they got to the restaurant. Nancy still thought Melinda's angular, porcelain white face was attractive, not in a conventional way of course, but Nancy imagined the former model's bone structure meant she photographed well. And no doubt about it, the woman knew how to dress. The cobalt colored silk dress she wore fit her like a glove. It showed off her magnificent figure and great legs to perfection.

"Ah, right on time," Melinda said with a smile, a genuine smile.

As Nancy and the others followed Melinda, Nancy felt there was something different about the dark-haired woman. Warmth, Nancy suddenly realized. Melinda emanated real warmth tonight.

The group approached a table elegantly set. Mr. Airedale was talking to a waiter, giving him instructions, but when he saw the group he cut his instructions short and turned to his guests.

The man that greeted Nancy and her friends was completely different than the man they'd met when they first took the case. That man had been filled with grief and pain. This man was relaxed and taking charge of his life again.

The emotional weight Mr. Airedale had suffered beneath for the past few days was gone. The sobering knowledge that Gwen had very likely known about Diana's murder and said nothing, had probably taken much of the sting out of her death.

Tonight, Lance Airedale had some color in his face and a glimmer of hope in his hazel eyes. He motioned for everyone to take a seat.

The table was exquisitely set with fine-bone china, etched crystal wine glasses, the finest sterling silverware, and soft cream colored napkins slipped inside beautiful napkin rings.

The waiter Mr. Airedale had been talking to reappeared and handed each person a leather-bound menu. No prices Nancy noticed. This place was indeed expensive.

"Please," Mr. Airedale said, "order whatever you like. This dinner's on me. It's my way of saying thank you for all your hard work. That goes for you too, Bess." He fixed her with a grateful smile and the candle light reflected the warmth in his eyes. "Without your help the fashion show might not have happened at all and I know for a fact it wouldn't have run as smoothly as it did. Thank you."

The dinner proved to be much more pleasant and relaxing than Nancy had expected.

When dinner was over Mr. Airedale thanked everyone again. He gave each person a firm handshake that conveyed heartfelt gratitude then said, "I hate to eat and run, but Melinda and I have a midnight flight to Chicago tonight. There's a few things to take care of before we head to the airport. The police released Gwen's body yesterday and .." a flash of pain clouded his face, "and the service is Wednesday. There's still a few details I need to iron out. Melinda has checks for you so I'll leave you in her capable hands." He paused as another thought came to his mind. "Oh, and if you ever need a reference, you can count on me. I owe you my life. If you hadn't discovered the truth I have no doubt I'd be sitting in a police cell right now proclaiming my innocence. So, again I thank you."

Melinda passed out the checks as soon as Mr. Airedale left.

The minute Melinda was gone Joe ripped open his envelope. "Wow! Not bad."

Frank opened his, too. "Not bad at all."

"Try not to spend it all in one place," Bess said with a grin. A second later she was seized by a yawn that shook her whole body. "Oh my goodness, I'm tired. A day in the sun and sea has completely worn me out."

"I'm tired, too," Nancy said. "And I still have some packing to do. Our flight leaves at eleven tomorrow morning, doesn't it?"

"Yep, it does." Bess wearily pushed herself out of her chair. It took Herculean effort. "I'm so tired I don't know if I'll make it to my room."

Joe got to his feet. "I'll help you." He wrapped a strong arm around Bess. "Here we go."

Bess leaned her head on Joe's shoulder and let herself be led away.

Nancy and Frank eased out of their chairs and made their way out of the restaurant.

As they walked down the hallway toward the elevators Nancy glanced at Frank. His jaw was swollen again and his brow was furrowed. "You're in pain aren't you?"

"Yeah." He tried not to move his jaw too much.

"You need to rest. Is there anything you need before we call it a night? A bucket of ice?" She pushed the up button on the elevator.

He leaned in close. "A kiss would be nice."

The kiss on the beach instantly sprang to Nancy's mind and she arched an eyebrow. "I don't know, Frank. With the way you kiss that could be dangerous." Her tone was teasing and a provocative smile played upon her lips.

Frank smiled then winced. "Oww." He put a hand to his jaw. "Okay, that hurts. A lot. Good thing I kissed you when I did. I can barely move my mouth now."

"It's okay." Nancy took him by the hand and pulled him into the empty elevator. "Just relax and let me do all the work."

Before Frank could get his brain wrapped around what she'd said and what she meant, she had him pressed against the elevator's metal wall. Her hands slid up his chest and to his neck.

He was stunned to say the least, but pleasantly so. The next thing he knew her lips brushed his neck – light and delicate – like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. Her warm breath sent a shiver racing down his spine and a moan of pure pleasure escaped his lips. She kissed the hollow of his neck – a lingering kiss that she finished off with a quick stroke of her tongue.

Frank moaned again.

Deliberately, carefully, she worked her way to his chin, depositing feather-light kisses along the way. Frank kneaded Nancy's back as she worked magic with her tender kisses. His brain had reached critical mass by this point and he thought he now knew what the phrase 'she blew my mind' meant because his mind was gone – shattered, blown to bits – but in an oh-so good way.

Finally, Nancy tenderly kissed him full on the lips.

Some part of Frank's brain, a part that somehow still functioned, registered the ping of the elevator. He opened his eyes and saw the doors slide apart. That still functioning part of his brain told him he was supposed to walk through the doors, but he didn't budge. He couldn't, his body was in sensory overload.

It took a gentle tug from Nancy to get him moving. She was smiling – a wicked smile full of delicious satisfaction.

Probably delighted with her ability to reduce him to a mindless puddle of goo he thought. But he wasn't complaining. She could do that to him anytime she liked.

"Well," Nancy said leading him down the hall toward his room, "that'll have to hold you for tonight." She looked up at him. "Oh, and Frank."

"Huh?"

"I just want you to know that this is all your fault. You started this you know."

"Huh?" He was confused. What had he started? Whatever it was, if this was the result, he needed to start it more often.

"With that kiss on the beach." She flashed a sultry smile. "I figure turn-about is fair play. Don't you?"

They were at his room.

He leaned against the wall and pulled her close. "Oh, I'd say it's very fair."

Moments later he entered his room, shut the door and collapsed against it. He sucked in a ragged breath, pushed off the door, and headed straight for bathroom. One cold shower coming up.

* * *

 _A/N: A big thank you to those who have taken a few minutes and left a review. One more chapter to go._


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Nancy woke early Sunday morning. She had not slept well. Her dreams had been haunted by images of Frank – and that kiss – the one on the beach. That kiss had set off fireworks. It had jumbled her mind and heart.

Frank, Frank, Frank, she thought as she tugged on a pair of running shorts. Do you have any idea what you do to me? How your very presence sends my heart racing like a silly school girl?

She slipped a t-shirt over her head. Yes, he probably did.

She gave her hair a quick brush and thought about the kisses in the elevator and Frank's reaction. A smile broke over her face and lit her eyes. There was no doubt Frank had liked those. He'd barely been able to walk when the doors opened. She'd had to literally pull him out of the elevator.

But the real question on Nancy's mind this morning was – was this the beginning of a passionate love affair or the makings of true love? She wouldn't mind the first, but she wanted the latter. And there lay her dilemma.

Nancy needed time, and solitude, to ponder those questions. She grabbed her sunglasses, room keycard and slipped out the door. A long quiet walk on the beach would give her time to sort through her thoughts and feelings.

Ten minutes later she was trudging through the sand, hands buried in the pockets of her lightweight sweatjacket, and no closer to an answer to her questions. She stopped, kicked at the sand and gazed upon the cresting sun. Goodness, this place was gorgeous. She gazed at the glittering sea. She'd leave here with some great memories. Thinking of them brought a contented grin and a sense of warmth and happiness.

Nancy turned toward the hotel and made her way to the terrace of the _Puahlua Bar and Grill_. Perhaps a cup of coffee would clear her mind, help her think straight, if that was even possible where Frank Hardy was concerned. He'd won her heart. He'd invaded her dreams and he took up a good portion of her waking thoughts. No man had ever had that power over her before and it was a little disconcerting to say the least. On second thought, Nancy decided. It was disconcerting in a very nice way … a pleasant, stimulating way.

Being around Frank certainly kept her on her toes … mentally and physically … and well, in a lot of other ways she didn't want to think about right now.

She was at the terrace and had spotted Kate Mansville sitting alone at a table, a coffee cup in her hand. Nancy started to turn away thinking Kate probably wanted to be alone, but Kate saw her and motioned for Nancy to join her.

"It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Kate said as Nancy took a seat across from her.

"It certainly is. I couldn't resist a morning stroll. It's our last day. Our flight leaves in a few hours."

"Barbara, Paula, and I are staying a few more days then we're headed home, too." Kate sipped her coffee.

A waiter appeared and Nancy ordered coffee. Then she asked, "So, how are you really doing?" She knew the wives' anger had carried them along yesterday, all three women had been riding high on it, but today they might see things in a different light.

Kate let out a heavy sigh. "Good question. It hasn't been easy, the past two days, absorbing all that's happened. But I have learned two things from all this. One, you never know what life is going to throw at you and two, I wouldn't change a thing."

Kate's eyes held an apology as they met Nancy's. "I loved him. I still do." She peered at her coffee. "I don't regret marrying John. I don't love what he did, but I still love _him_." Her eyes came up and met Nancy's. "Can you understand that?"

Nancy nodded. She thought she could understand Kate's feelings. Emotions weren't like a light switch. People couldn't just turn them on and off when it suited them.

"Love .. true love," Kate said, "those feelings run deep, Nancy. Deeper than anything you've ever felt before. True love rattles you to the very core of your being. It takes over your mind and body and keeps you awake at night. You ask yourself if this wonderful feeling is for real." She took her napkin and dabbed her eyes. "I can't stop loving him. Eighteen years. We had some lovely times together. Actually, we had a lot of lovely times. Oh my, did we ever. You can't just forget that, pretend it didn't happen." She dabbed eyes again. "We had a lot of fun together and I think he loved me the same way I loved him."

The waiter placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Nancy and, sensing the women's mood, quietly left.

Nancy patted the older woman's arm. "I think he did, too." Nancy felt John Mansville had, and probably still, loved his wife.

Kate sipped her coffee and stared at the rising sun, a fiery, orange ball creeping above the ocean.

Nancy added cream to her coffee and thought about what Kate had said about true love. It seemed Kate had perfectly described how Nancy felt about Frank. Thoughts of him were currently interfering with her sleep and he'd definitely rattled her heart.

Kate spoke, breaking the silence that had enveloped the women, "That Detective, Detective Lau, stopped by last night to see me. He said he had John evaluated by a psychiatrist."

"Oh?" Nancy sipped her coffee and shot Kate a curious glance.

"Yes. Lau says the psychiatrist believes John suffered a psychotic break with reality. Don't get me wrong. That doesn't excuse John from what he did, especially to you. It's just … it's just that it gives me more to think about, more things to consider if you know what I mean."

"It's a lot to take in I'm sure," Nancy said amicably.

"Yes, it is. Initially, I thought about getting a divorce. I even talked to John's lawyer about it last night. He recommended against it, for John's sake. Actually, he asked me not to file for divorce in the immediate future. He's afraid it could push John completely over the edge." She lifted a delicate shoulder. "I don't know. I think in the final analysis it's not important. According to Lau, John's looking at 20 to 25 years for Chase's murder. I certainly don't have to make a decision in the next few weeks or months."

No, she certainly doesn't, Nancy thought and her thoughts turned to Frank. Where would they be in 20 to 25 years?

# # # #

The plane sped down the runway and gracefully lifted into the air. Nancy watched the ground fall away. Higher and higher the plane climbed. The ocean came into view and filled the small window.

 _Good-bye, Hawaii. I hope to visit you again._ Nancy gazed long and lingeringly at the tranquil sea. Finally, she turned to Frank on her right. He'd been watching the view, too.

He smiled and slipped a hand into hers. Laced his fingers with hers. "We'll have to come back some time when we _don't_ have a case to solve."

Nancy smiled. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Great minds think alike," Frank said.

Nancy chuckled. "Okay, and what am I thinking now?"

Frank's lips met hers, proving without a shadow of a doubt that great minds do indeed think alike.

THE END

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you to all the wonderful people who left a review. Those are always nice to receive. A special thank you to Smithy for asking me to repost this story. It's kinda made me want to write another story in this universe. :) However, I have another story here that I must finish first (Murder by the Sea). I plan to spend the next few months completed the final chapters for that story._

 _Take care everyone!_


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